The Prince
by Lord Dobby Black
Summary: The Ministry has fallen and Hogwarts is besieged. The Dark Lord's reign is all but assured. Now Harry has to figure out how to outsmart the most powerful Dark Lord of the modern era. Will Gryffindor courage, Slytherin cunning, and the kind of recklessness that is Harry's alone be enough? While the Art of War demands a general, Wizarding Britain needs a Prince.HIATUS PENDING REWRITE
1. Chapter 1

" _When you outnumber the enemy ten to one, surround him. When you outnumber him five to one, attack him. If your numbers are double his, divide him. If you're equally matched, have a good plan to engage him in battle. If you are weaker in number, be ready to pull back. If your army is weaker in all respects, you must try to elude him, since a small force is easily taken by one more powerful that fights daringly."_

Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter – just writing for my own pleasure.

 **Chapter 1**

Gray clouds were gathering on an already darkening sky. The sun was about to set and a feeling of gloom had descended upon Hogwarts. The tension was thick in the air; thick enough that Harry imagined he could reach out with his hand and touch it. The tension was pregnant with expectation. And fear of what was about to happen; of what seemed all but unavoidable. An eerie quiet had settled on the castle grounds.

To Harry it had become increasingly clear that the situation was desperate and that it was merely a matter of time before the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts. Voldemort had delivered his ultimatum on handing over Harry and it was only half an hour to midnight. He knew that he had to act quickly; for all of them to survive the coming storm.

"Professor McGonagall, please!", he pleaded with his former head of house, a hint of desperation in his voice. He winced slightly as soon as he had spoken. To his own ears he sounded pathetic, like that of a boy and not of the man he felt he had become. No one gave any sign to have noticed, with all eyes fixed on Harry and the Professor.

They all stood in the Great Hall where they had just witnessed the unbendable Professor of Transfiguration and Deputy Headmistress, with the aid of Professors Flitwick and Sprout, fight off Snape, who had eventually fled through the window. Snape must have learned more than just a few tricks from his master, given how he gracefully flew over the castle grounds. It was almost beautiful to behold somehow, yet in a sordid way. Harry promised himself never to underestimate the disgraced former professor. A traitor to be sure, but a dangerous one. For the millionth time he wished he hadn't stopped Sirius from killing the other traitor; the pathetic Wormtail.

Harry brought himself back from his musings and looked at his old Head of House. McGonagall's countenance projected a sternness that was all too familiar to a couple of generations of Hogwarts students. Her face gave enough hints at her displeasure, at least to those who knew her well, that he didn't need to hear her say it to know that she was disappointed and that she disapproved.

"Just listen to me..," he continued, not waiting for her to respond. "We cannot win this fight, we must pull back and regroup!".

McGonagall fixed her piercing eyes on him and gave him a hard look; her disappointment becoming blatantly obvious.

"While I'm pleased you care so much for our safety, I do believe that it is time for Gryffindor courage and this is the safest place in magical Britain!", she responded with what seemed like feigned enthusiasm. Some of the Gryffindor students cheered, but they were few and easily outnumbered.

"Besides, I do believe you shall find that we, the professors, are rather good at magic and we're not about to give up Hogwarts to that _man_."

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, although he didn't think McGonagall would take kindly to such antics. This was taking too long, the deadline was due in just half an hour and the evacuation needed to take place immediately, without any further delay.

"Professor, just listen to me! We are vastly outnumbered, unprepared and most of us here are students", he tried again, words coming out of his mouth much louder and forcefully than before.

"Trust me, we are not ready to fight him yet. Not here, not now. That's what he wants us to do and it would be foolish to give him what he wants."

He paused briefly to look around at the gathered students. His voice had carried across the Great Hall, and all eyes were fixed upon him. Eyes that betrayed their fear. He needed to project determination and give them some hope, however small.

" _He_ has chosen this battlefield, not us," he went on, leaving no room for confusion as to whom he referred to. "He comes prepared for battle while we are not. There will be a time for Gryffindor courage and sense of honor, but today we must show Slytherin cunning and live to fight another day. Unless you have full control over the wards of the castle and can lock it down completely, then we have no choice."

Thank Hermione and her need to commit the entire Hogwarts: A History to memory for that piece of information. Only the Headmaster could lock down Hogwarts so completely that no army could breach its walls. But Dumbledore was gone and Snape had been the last Headmaster. He had no idea if Professor McGonagall had already assumed control over the wards and knew how to enact their full protection. He had no idea in what shape the wards were after Snape's tenure as Headmaster. Perhaps they were all but gone. Tom would have prepared for this too. He always seemed to do.

 _When you're fighting a losing game; when check-mate is bound to occur within just a few quick moves, the honorable way was perhaps to let the game run its course. But the Slytherin way, and only sensible recourse, was to flip the board, especially when so much was at stake. Besides, I'm nowhere near ready to face him_ , Harry thought to himself while trying to gauge the effect of his verbal onslaught. Judging by the thoughtful look McGonagall gave him, it was as if she was seeing him for the very first time. She seemed to waver in her determination. Perhaps this would be the first time she decided to listen to him. _And maybe pigs could fly_ , he thought wryly.

He hesitated for a moment, rubbing his scar that had flared up in pain again, before he added what he knew was a gross exaggeration, if not an outright lie.

"Plans have already been put in place to fight this war, but staying here to fight and die will gain us nothing. We can defeat him, but not like this. Professor Dumbledore instructed me on how to win this war."

Harry saw that he had truly caught her attention now. The Great Hall waited in absolute silence for her decision. Professor McGonagall just kept her eyes locked on Harry, as if trying to solve a suddenly fascinating puzzle. The sound of nervous feet trampling around could be heard behind them until suddenly the quiet was broken.

First Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat, and looked like she wanted to say something. Probably something about how he should trust the adults to handle the situation; that he was too young. Arthur, the twins, Kingsley and Remus stood beside her sporting looks of concern of their own. However, before she had the chance, a clear voice came from behind them.

"Harry speaks the truth".

Susan wore a faint blush on her cheeks, but a look of stubborn determination in her eyes. Harry remembered that she had lost her aunt, Amelia Bones, the head of the DMLE, not that long ago.

"The Ministry has already fallen and we cannot face _them_ in open battle," she continued, seeming to gain in confidence as she spoke.

A few murmurs of assent rose among the gathered students. Most looked ill at the very idea of taking up wands against the Dark Lord's army. They had all heard the whispers of Dementors and Werewolves joining his cause, and he knew from experience that most of them were still too afraid to even mention the name of the Dark Lord. He would have to break that fear. It was too potent a weapon in the enemy's hands. If they fought like this, half the battle would have been lost before it even started.

Susan's words seemed to have stirred them up and before Professor McGonagall had a chance to speak up again, Neville spoke up as well, his voice loud and confident.

"I'm with you Harry... We're all with you. House Longbottom stands with House Potter and will follow your lead wherever you go. Until the end."

Neville's face was grim, the gash on his cheek clearly visible and one of his eyes yellow and purple. His robes too had definitely seen better days. They hung singed and tattered. There was not a hint of a smile on his normally so friendly and open face.

Harry gave him a surprised look. He would never have expected this from the shy boy, but it seemed that this past year had changed not only him, Hermione and Ron, but also others. Perhaps more so.

More voices rose among the students, all voicing their assent. The DA members and the Gryffindors were at the forefront, displaying an almost Hufflepuff sense of loyalty. Harry almost felt embarrassed, but he had no time to think about it any further.

Professor McGonagall gave her students a look of pure disbelief. Perhaps she could sense the mood in the room, where those most likely to stay and fight would rather follow Harry's plan, whatever it was, while the majority of the students looked like they wished they were elsewhere. Some of the Slytherins wore smirks that spoke of their eager anticipation of what was about to happen.

 _They have no idea how much they will suffer when the Dark Lord finally takes over_ , Harry thought to himself, _but they will know soon enough_. He almost pitied the fools.

Yet, he knew for certain that some within the Slytherin ranks were perfectly able to picture the horrors of Magical Britain ruled by the Dark Lord. They understood that they had everything to lose in such a scenario. Being pureblood would only delay the inevitable subjugation. He intended to reach out to them in due time. He would need them.

"There is only one problem, Mr. Potter", McGonagall said, defeat evident in her voice. It seemed like the air had gone out of her. "We don't have a way out", she finished with a heavy sigh.

Upon hearing her words some of the younger students broke down in tears. Looks of panic could be seen on most faces; the sound of hushed whispers growing.

"Professor, Neville knows the way out. Trust me, and trust Neville. We can get everyone to Hogsmeade and if need be we'll fight our way out from there", he heard himself answer.

The confidence in his voice was a poor reflection of his true feelings. They had barely escaped the Death Eaters' stationed there as it was. Maybe they were still searching for them. He decided to not dwell on that. He couldn't do everything or account for every possibility. At least not on such short notice. Like a true Gryffindor he had come to Hogwarts, without much of a plan. Scratch that – with _no_ plan besides finding the remaining Horcrux. Godric would be proud.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," she finally said. "Professors Slughorn and Sinistra, please see to the evacuation immediately. The rest of the adults here will help you. Prefects, please make sure everyone is accounted for. Neville, please lead the way. In the meanwhile, Professor Flitwick and I will see to our defenses in order to buy us some more time," she continued, her voice firm again. Being in command came as naturally to her as breathing.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief as the professors and prefects set to work counting and sorting the students. He had feared it would take a lot more to convince her, but now he could finally turn to other matters. There was still a Horcrux somewhere in Hogwarts and this might be his last chance to find it. But time was running out and he had no idea where to begin his search for it.

"Hermione, Ron!", he called out, his eyes scanning the room in search for them. He soon found them engaged in a heated discussion as he hurried to join up with them.

"I meant it," he heard Neville say assertively, "we will not stand aside and leave this fight to you!".

He could see the others nodding their assent. They fell quiet as soon as they noticed Harry's presence. He quickly realized that any argument at this point would be futile. He said nothing as he looked each one of them in the eyes, searching for... something.

He had already heard how they had suffered under the Carrows and each one met his eyes with unwavering looks of their own. Neville, Luna, Cho, Seamus, Hannah, Dean, Susan, Justin and several others all sported grim faces that revealed that they were ready for whatever was coming, that they trusted him to take charge. Fools they were. He couldn't even take care of himself – he had Hermione for that – and much less others. He didn't let those thoughts show on his face though. He owed them that at least.

He nodded slowly, seeing that Hermione and Ron were both shockingly enough looking to him to make the decision. "Good", he said simply. "We're glad to have you".

Smiles broke out on the gathered remnants of Dumbledore's Army. They looked eager. _If only they knew_ , Harry thought with a heavy heart, wishing fervently that he wouldn't lead them to an early grave. No time to dwell on that either. Meanwhile he felt his scar burning with an intensity that almost made his eyes water.

"So this is what we will do", he began. "Neville, lead them all to the Room of Requirement and keep the room under your control. We will need to make our own escape as soon as we find the thing that Voldemort hid in the castle. But we don't have much time."

They all nodded, having heard of their search for an object hidden earlier as they made their way into the castle.

"The rest of us we'll spread out in pairs... we don't know exactly what it is we're looking for but as we said, it's the key to defeating Voldemort", he continued, trying to fight off the tiredness in his voice. "All we know for sure is that it's valuable, perhaps Rowena Raveclaw's lost diadem as Luna suggested earlier, and it will likely have an evil feel to it as you approach it. Be very careful though, this thing can really mess with your head..." His voice trailed off when his memories surfaced. "It can make you believe that your friends are your enemies..", Ron looked slightly guilty upon hearing that, "..and it's near indestructible. If we find it, we'll simply have to take it with us and leave as soon as possible, but beware of possibly dangerous protection spells on it."

Everyone nodded their understanding. He wasn't used to taking charge like this, as normally it was what Hermione did. She did most of the thinking in their little group of reckless Gryffindors. But everyone looked to him and he realized that more than ever before, this was his fight and therefore his responsibility.

Hermione however, looked at him with evident approval as if confirming something for herself, before she spoke up.

"As Harry said, we don't have much time," she cast a quick _tempus_ , "we will give it perhaps 25 minutes, but that's cutting it close. So even if you haven't found anything, make sure to be at the Room of Requirement in 25 minutes from now", she finished, worry returning to her face. The same look he had seen for over a year. _She is probably already thinking of a hundred different ways in which this could go wrong_ , Harry thought.

"Alright everyone, let's move out!", Harry said, dismissing everybody. He turned around and saw how the rest of the students had sorted themselves into their Houses, with the Slytherins standing somewhat apart from everybody else. He saw Malfoy's pale face, with Crabbe and Goyle standing close to him. He saw Nott and Blaise, neither looking excited or troubled by recent events. _They have probably withdrawn deep behind their Occlumency shields to avoid displaying their emotions_ , he guessed. He needed to watch out for those two. He continued his search until he saw her long, blonde hair. Right at that moment she turned around and her eyes found his. _Daphne_. He gave her a slight nod which she discreetly returned. He hadn't spoken to her for more than a year and he missed their long, yet secretly-held discussions on the magical world; the intensity in her voice when she made her points; the sound of her laughter when he said something ignorant or when he tried to be funny. His heart ached to hear it again.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the Slytherins' turn to march out began. The DA members had already divided themselves up into pairs, conferring quietly between themselves, and he quickly discovered that only he, Hermione and Ron remained. He signaled to them to remain behind as the others left.

"So", he said, "that leaves only the three of us. Any ideas?" he asked.

Hermione hesitated for a brief moment, as if trying to reach a decision, before she cast a quick anti-listening ward. When she was sure of their privacy, she spoke up.

"Yes, Ron and I will try to enter the Chamber of Secrets in order to take another tooth from the Basilisk. He is sure he can imitate the sound you made when you opened it".

Ron didn't look like he was sure of anything of the sort, but he gave them a brief, hesitant nod.

"We will need it to deal with Helga Hufflepuff's cup and this last Horcrux, whatever and wherever it is," she continued.

"Alright," Harry answered as he forced down his doubt in their plan. "No matter what, don't be late. And if I'm not there on time, you continue without me."

"Harry, no!" Hermione burst out, fear and worry apparent in her eyes. "We're not leaving you!"

"Don't you worry about me, Hermione. I know this castle better than almost anyone and I have my cloak and the map. I'll be fine," he tried to reassure her. He wasn't about to leave before he got the last horcrux. Everything hinged upon it.

"If I'm not there, I'm leaving the responsibility for the DA to you. Bring them somewhere safe until I find you," he added firmly.

Both Hermione's and Ron's eyes widened in surprise at hearing him issue commands, but eventually they both nodded in acceptance.

 _Good_ , he thought. _They will simply have to get used to it or I'll hear no end of arguments once I start to reveal my plans_. Besides, in times of crisis, everyone wished for someone to step up.

While Ron and Hermione headed to the Chamber of Secrets, Harry pondered his next step. He knew instinctively that the last object was Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. In fact, the way that Alecto Carrow was waiting for him in the Ravenclaw common room, Voldemort must have known he would begin his search there – meaning that Luna's theory that it was the lost diadem of Ravenclaw was most likely true. But how did he go about to find it? Where could Voldemort have hidden it? How could he have found it when it was lost for such a long time?

Harry racked his brain, but he couldn't come up with anything. Who might know the answer? Suddenly it dawned on him that the Ravenclaw ghost might know something.

He spotted Near-Headless Nick not far away and saw the other House ghosts hovering above their respective houses. He called out to her.

"Gray Lady! Gray Lady, please! I need to talk to you!"

Far across the Great Hall he could see that she gave him a curious look before she started to drift away, apparently shying away from the attention. Perhaps because they didn't share Houses, he surmised.

He started to run after her, shouting to her to wait, as she flew through the wall leading out to the Entrance Hall outside. When he reached the Entrance Hall there was no sign of her at all.

"Damn!" he cursed, disappointment welling up in him. He would never find that slippery ghost who passed through walls as if they weren't there. And for her, they weren't.

"Think, Harry!" he admonished himself quietly. "You don't have Hermione here to figure it out for you, just think for once!"

He was just about to sit down to think as he saw long lines of suits of armor come marching through the corridor. He simply stared at them in bafflement as they passed him and continued to the heavy front door of the castle. The suits of armor passed without a sound other than their heavy footsteps on the stone floor and the clinking of metal. It was like an army of ghosts clad in metal. Right then the reality of the situation truly hit home. Hogwarts was really under attack! The only place where he truly felt at home was now under attack.

Anger rose within him, yet after a few brief moments he managed to fight it down. _Clear your thoughts_.

Filled with curiosity, he quickly followed the suits of armor to the front door and once there he peeked out, seeing to his amazement how a large translucent dome had been raised over Hogwarts. _Flitwick_ , he realized, having spotted the tiny professor pointing his wand to the sky as he chanted spells, over and over.

As impressive as that magic was – and Harry was well and truly impressed by magic far greater than any he could manage himself – he understood it was just a matter of time before the Death Eaters would break through. Voldemort would not be held back by anything the professors did, of that he was certain. But if that was so, how could he possibly face the Dark Lord himself?

Despair threatened to overcome him as he merely stood there, staring at the dome and the darkness that surrounded it. If he tried hard enough, he could see dark shapes moving about far beyond the dome Flitwick had conjured. Suddenly he was more convinced than ever that he had made the right call by urging the professors to evacuate. Voldemort had been prepared for this and had gathered his forces at a really short notice. Overwhelming forces, he realized, as he saw huge shapes on the horizon. _Giants!_

Suddenly he could hear a lone howl in the far distance; a sound that chilled his bones. _Werewolf_!

It was quickly taken up by others, as the dark sky filled with their inhuman voices. How could they have transformed if there wasn't a full moon? Something must have forced their transformation. And that was a dangerous weapon in the hands of the enemy.

He could hear the anger in their howls and it made his blood curdle to think of these bloodthirsty beasts unleashed among the students of Hogwarts. He vowed to cut them all to pieces if they ever tried.

Thinking of the students, he fervently hoped they had made it out of the castle and that no nasty surprises awaited them in Hogsmeade. He also hoped that Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, was alright. Thinking of Dumbledore made him all of a sudden reach a startling conclusion. Voldemort must have hidden the horcrux when he applied for a job at Hogwarts!

He ran into the castle again, thoughts running even quicker through his head. He stopped in the Entrance Hall, not knowing where to go. Where could Voldemort have hidden it that made him think it was going to remain hidden and safe? Where would Harry himself have hidden something in the castle? In the Chamber of Secrets? No, he quickly realized. Although it would have been an excellent hiding place, accessible only to parselmouths as it was, it was very unlikely that Voldemort have managed to go all the way there on his way to Dumbledore's office. Then where?

If Harry needed to hide something, then ...

Suddenly all the pieces fell in place. The Room of Requirement, of course! No teacher or student likely knew of its existence until Dobby had helped him find it back in fifth year. Yet, Malfoy had known to use it for bringing Death Eaters into the castle the previous year.

Just _how_ had Malfoy known?

Harry didn't think that Malfoy realized what the room was when he joined Umbridge in her pursuit of the DA as they were practicing in the room. Voldemort might have told him!

He knew that his logic wasn't foolproof; there may in fact have been other ways for Malfoy to find the room. Perhaps he had stumbled upon it himself. But somehow Harry knew that it made sense that Voldemort had used the room, not expecting anyone to find it there. After all, the room, even if discovered by accident, would only present itself to them in accordance with their own desires and needs. You had to need to find the place where things were hidden, that's assuming you knew there was something hidden in the first place, or else you would never find it. It was simply brilliant!

He began running through the castle. The lanterns on the walls lit up the now empty and quiet castle. As he ran up the stairs he could hear the faint sound of explosions coming from the castle grounds. They must have begun the attack, trying to bring the dome down, he realized.

He finally made it to the sixth floor and as he reached the corridor with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he saw that the door to the Room of Requirement was indeed there.

 _Neville must still be there, allowing the door to remain visible_ , he thought.

He quickly opened the door and stepped inside.

As he closed the door behind him he saw Neville sitting watch over Draco Malfoy, who was disarmed and bound by thick ropes.

"Caught him trying to sneak back into the castle," Neville said grimly in greeting, as he saw Harry's questioning look. Looking grim seemed to be Neville's default face these days. He held Malfoy's wand in one hand, his own in the other hand while twirling it around in his fingers lazily.

"Well, well, well." Harry began once he recovered from the surprise.

"Isn't it our favorite junior Death Eater?" he continued as he walked up to the bound young man. How he hated that little prick. Ever since first year.

Malfoy's face grew pale upon hearing Harry's mocking voice. He must have remembered how Harry had used a very dark and lethal curse on him that almost claimed his life. It would have, if Snape hadn't been there.

He seemed to gather his courage however.

"I didn't tell them it was you!" Malfoy told him with a scowl, referring to how Bellatrix had brought Draco in front of Harry at the Malfoy Manor not so long ago. Bellatrix hadn't dared to summon Voldemort unless she was sure it was really him, and with his disfigured face it had been really hard to tell. But Malfoy had known.

Malfoy continued; his voice full of indignation, "They had you, and you would have been dead by now if I hadn't helped you."

Harry felt a tinge of embarrassment when he heard this. Upon seeing the face of his tormentor for all these years, he had momentarily forgotten that he did in fact owe Malfoy his life.

 _I'll be buggered, owing my life to Malfoy of all people!_

"You're right, and I am truly grateful… and sorry." Harry finally said.

He gave him a regretful smile as he stunned Malfoy with another fast flick of his wand.

"Blimey, Harry," Neville exclaimed, a touch of awe in his voice. "That was a spell you cast without even a whisper!"

"You pick up a few things when you're on the run," Harry answered vaguely. There was no time for idle chatter however. They had work to do.

"Why don't you bring him to Hogsmeade and wait for me there? I'll be with you as soon as I can. Just have some things to do and I need to find Ron and Hermione as well," he told Neville.

Neville looked at him for a moment before he shrugged. He cast the levitation charm on Malfoy's unconscious body with a softly spoken incantation, as he began to float him towards the passage to Hogsmeade. Harry was somewhat surprised at the magical control Neville showed. He half-expected him to botch the whole thing and drop Malfoy on his head – not that Harry would have minded all that much – even after seeing how he had improved in their DA meetings.

When Neville was gone, Harry turned his attention to the room he now controlled. _How to get it to reveal the Horcrux?_ , he thought furiously.

He tried to focus on his need for the room to reveal the diadem, but nothing happened. He tried to make the room reveal all its hidden objects, yet still nothing. The room just looked exactly the same as when he entered.

Frustrated, he sent an over-powered bludgeoner into the wall, yelling the incantation loudly. There was a loud noise and he was almost afraid the wall would crumble, but the wall appeared unharmed.

 _Once again, use your head, Harry. Don't be a stupid Gryffindor for once!_

He stopped briefly to consider the situation. The room simply didn't respond to him. He got an idea and imagined that he really needed a chair to sit on, and just as soon as he finished that thought, a chair identical to the ones in the Gryffindor common room appeared next to him. He stared at it for a moment. Clearly he could still affect the room with his desires.

Finally he decided that maybe he couldn't fully change the room from within and needed to imagine it full of hidden things from outside. Perhaps this change was more fundamental to the room and could only be done from outside?

 _Hermione probably knows and can explain it to me_ , he thought amusedly. She always seemed to know the answer, bless her soul.

Just as he turned around to go to the door, he saw it swung open and in stepped two students he could have sworn had left with the rest of the Slytherins. Both faces looked at him with cruel grins, wands pointing at him.

 _Crabbe and Goyle!_

Only his quick reflexes saved him as he heard two _Stupefies_ and saw their wands light up with stunning spells coming his way. He dove to the side, rolled around and got back to his feet. With his wand already in hand he immediately cast a shield that protected him from their follow-up stunners. He darted further back into the room, casting a stunner of his own, and saw that Crabbe and Goyle had barely moved. They just stood there in the exact same spot while continuing to cast spells at him. Always move your feet, Moody had taught him.

 _Beaters are simply too damn slow_.

He recalled how he had evaded them numerous times on the Quidditch field and felt his confidence rise somewhat. While they were two against one, he had been in worse situations. But just like these previous times, he felt the adrenaline course through his veins and instinct took over.

Meanwhile, Crabbe must have managed to shake off the surprise at Harry's quick reaction, and cast a protego of his own that protected them from Harry's return stunner. They stepped into the room and began to spread out on both sides.

"Potter! Give up already!" Crabbe called out as he continued circling Harry to his left.

"The Dark Lord is here and he will reward us for bringing you to him," Goyle continued gleefully to Harry's right.

Both sported identical triumphant smiles.

Harry wondered briefly if it may have been the longest sentence he'd ever heard coming from Goyle's mouth. No matter.

He didn't bother with a reply, but quickly dove to his right as another of Crabbe's stunners passed over his head. He got back to his feet, coming up much closer to Goyle and fired off a stunner that hit the surprised Slytherin straight in his chest, violently throwing him backwards until he landed with a thud. Momentarily shocked by the result, he realized that he must have put more power into that stunner than he intended.

Harry turned around and threw up a quick protego that intercepted a sickly-looking yellow spell from Crabbe that he didn't recognize, while summoning Goyle's wand from the unconscious boy with his other hand.

With one of his opponents now neutralized, Harry knew the odds were now in his favor. Crabbe on his own should have no chance against him.

After a year on the run, and every year before that always on the defensive, always trying to evade and escape, it felt good to fight back properly, with no intention of seeking escape. Even if it was only against the likes of Crabbe and Goyle.

With a wand in each hand, Harry smirked at Crabbe.

"Did you really think I would come peacefully?" he asked with a smirk. Seeing the scowl on Crabbe's face caused him to smile further. He felt in control of the situation which was a strange feeling indeed.

Once again Crabbe flicked his wand and yelled out " _CRUCIO!"_ , but fortunately for Harry, his aim was off and the spell missed him by several inches.

Now full of anger at the attempt to torture him, Harry put a lot of power into another stunner that made a heavy impact on Crabbe's shield; causing the shield to shatter, yet leaving Crabbe unharmed, if a bit shaken. He could see that his remaining opponent didn't look so confident anymore.

Yet, in the end he didn't have much time to gloat as Crabbe suddenly yelled "FIENDFYRE!" and unleashed what Harry could have sworn was a fire demon from hell; wild flames rose with a roar that appeared to take the shape of a bear that immediately started to grow while it seemed to struggle to shake off the spell that controlled it.

Harry watched with a stunned expression as the bear-like fire-creature first morphed into a wolf, then a dragon and burned with an intensity that almost made him want to avert his eyes just to avoid looking at it.

With a deafening roar the near shapeless dragon launched against him, incredibly hot flames threatening to burn him to a cinder, and he barely got his shield up in time.

The once again shapeless flames reached the shield and threw itself against it. Harry, whose shield buckled under the pressure, strained to keep his shield up against the onslaught. He felt despair creeping up within. The fire simply kept growing in size and intensity as Crabbe fed it more magic; even as he seemed to struggle to control it, and it might soon overcome Harry's simple _Protego_ , however much magic he put into it.

He pushed and strained, yet the pressure continued to grow while the heat intensified at an alarming rate. Sweat was pouring down his brow and he started to feel exhaustion from the relentless battle against the fire creature.

Realizing that he was fighting a losing battle, he began to look around for the door. _If he could only reach it_ , he thought with growing desperation.

In the corner of his eye he saw that Crabbe wore an expression that betrayed his own shock and growing horror at what he had unleashed. It was obvious that Crabbe was struggling with all his might to keep the fire under control, and Harry had a sinking feeling that they were both well and truly doomed.

As the pressure grew to a truly momentous strength, it all seemed to happen at once. He heard Crabbe release a shriek of pure terror, and Harry instinctively understood that Crabbe had finally lost the battle of control against his summoned fire-demon. Suddenly he felt the pressure on his shield disappear. Looking up once again, he watched in horror as the fire now launched itself on Crabbe who was immediately consumed by its terrible flames. Yet, the flames didn't go out, or even lessen from what he could tell, when the wizard who cast the spell succumbed to the monster he had wrought. It seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

Acting now on instinct, Harry rushed to the still open door and threw himself out the corridor, the fire creature fast on his heels. With a last desperate push of his magic, not even knowing what he did, he managed to close the door behind him just as the deafening inferno within reached it.

Exhausted, Harry simply laid there on the floor panting. _Merlin's balls_ , he thought. That was way too close.

Too close for Goyle, he realized. Goyle, whom he had all but forgotten, had been taken out by Harry's stunner just before Crabbe panicked and cast that devastating spell. Harry had no idea what it was the idiot had unleashed, but the Slytherin had paid for his mistake with his own life. It wasn't a way to die that Harry would wish upon anyone, but at least it had been quick. Much as he tried, he couldn't summon much regret for either Crabbe or Goyle. They had wanted to deliver him to Voldermort; to a certain death. They had looked gleeful when they informed him. No, he would not dwell upon their deaths, but would harden his heart.

Still panting slightly, he tried to sit up. He felt his legs shake with the adrenaline and he wasn't sure if they would support him just yet.

 _What in the name of Merlin do I do now?_

END OF CHAPTER 1

* * *

Author's note:

 _This is my first attempt at writing my own fanfic. The observant reader will have noted that the events at Hogwarts, before this story commenced, are not exactly portrayed as in the books. McGonagall doesn't know there's a way out through the RoR until Harry tells her in the Ravenclaw common room, but here this conversation takes place in the Great Hall after Snape is ousted. It's intentional. It's also ridiculous to think that Harry after 6 years at Hogwarts doesn't know who the Ravenclaw Ghost is. Harry will also come off as somewhat different from canon; the way I think he would have naturally progressed following his 6_ _th_ _year. More Slytherin. Any other (mostly minor) changes is explained as the story moves forward._


	2. Chapter 2

_"I consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because Fortuna is a woman... and it is seen that she allows herself to be mastered by the adventurous rather than by those who go to work more coldly. She is, therefore, always ... a lover of young men, because they are less cautious, more violent, and with more audacity command her."_

Machiavelli, The Prince

 **Chapter 2**

 **Hermione**

After they had left Harry in the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione hurriedly made their way to the second floor and onwards to the Girls' Lavatory, where Moaning Myrtle still resided and probably would remain until the ancient castle crumbled to dust. Only a very select few knew that this bathroom also contained the entrance to the fabled Chamber of Secrets.

Walking briskly through the empty corridors of Hogwarts gave Hermione a sense of peace that she had been lacking for the past year, despite the current situation. There was truly nothing like the castle in her opinion. If she was honest with herself, it felt more like home than her parents' house; the house where she had grown up. Thinking of her parents immediately brought back the feelings of sadness, guilt and shame that plagued her nights on the run. She had done what she did to save their lives, but if it wasn't for her they would never have been uprooted from their dentist practice, their home or all their friends and families. Like so often before, mostly while sitting in their tent in silence as each of them faced their own demons, she fought those feelings down. If she made it through the war alive, she would find them again and hopefully they would be able to forgive her. Maybe. She wasn't sure if she deserved their forgiveness.

Being on the run for a year had done wonders for Hermione's stamina. She had come a long way from her usual bookwormish self. She was barely winded at all when they finally reached the door to the bathroom. Ron motioned to her to wait, as he quietly pulled the large wooden door open. After a quick peek inside, he stepped in and signaled for her to follow.

 _Ron's being ridiculous again_ , she thought, but couldn't help but feel a tiny bit happy about it. It was actually kind of sweet, although she would never admit to that out loud. Gryffindors were supposed to be known for their chivalry, but she had seen precious little of that during her years at Hogwarts. Neville was perhaps an exception.., well, when he stopped being so shy at any rate. In fact, it was mostly Slytherins who seemed to treat other _worthy_ pureblood witches with some modicum of respect, well at least in public that is. She had really no idea what life had been like for witches in the green and silver dorms. She had even missed her chance to see for herself when Harry and Ron had snuck in there thanks to the polyjuice potion she had brewed as a second-year witch in this very bathroom. She felt sick when she remembered seeing herself after ingesting a cat hair instead of what she thought belonged to Milicent Bulstrode.

The bathroom was dimly lit, with rows and rows of toilet stalls; perhaps a testimony to a time when Hogwarts had held many more students than Hermione ever saw walk its corridors. War and exceedingly low birthrates had lowered the population of wizarding Britain to the current level of about 38,000. She had heard it rumored that it used to be close to a 50,000, but she could scarcely believe it.

In the middle of the dimly lit bathroom there was an octagon-shaped pillar, with a washstand on each of the eight sides. She watched silently as Ron began to inspect the taps until he finally exclaimed "found it!".

He stood in front of a sink and pointed at the engraved snake on one of the taps. "This is definitely the one", he said, motioning with his hand for her to come closer.

Before she knew it, he began to make suspiciously English-sounding hissing noises that utterly failed to send chills down her spine, the way it always did when she heard Harry speak Parseltongue. In fact, it was almost funny. She managed, somehow, to fight back her sudden urge to laugh since she didn't think poor Ron would appreciate it all that much.

They waited for a second, but unsurprisingly nothing happened.

"Not sure that was it really, but do try again", she encouraged him in what she felt sure was a neutral and positive voice. When his ears started to turn red, like they always did, she simply sighed. She thought she fancied Ron – and he her – but no matter what she said, he would always only hear her being bossy and critical. Not that she hadn't been, she would perhaps hesitantly admit to herself, but it was always for his own good. He just didn't see.

Again he emitted those hissing sounds, but quite differently from earlier. She had no idea how he did it or what it meant. But somehow it worked. The sink started to move and she nearly jumped in fright. _Get a grip, Hermione, for crying out loud_ , she berated herself, embarrassed beyond words. She only hoped that Ron hadn't noticed. She had after all survived being tortured by Bellatrix herself, at Malfoy manor no less, and spent years surrounded by the most amazing magic, but still couldn't refrain from being startled this easily. From something she had expected to happen. Seriously.

The opening was now wide enough for both of them to enter. They looked at each other; she knew that his hesitation was mirrored on her own face. The hole was black as the darkest night and the thought of jumping into this literal snake's den gave her pause.

"I've done this before, as you know", he began, his voice trailing off. She thought he sounded like he was trying to convince himself that it was still a good idea, and not just another harebrained act that would earn them their rightful place in the Gryffindor Hall of Fame. Posthumously, of course. Not that they hadn't secured their places there already.

She gave him a weak nod; or more a slight dip of her head truth be told. "Yeah, let's do it," she said in a voice that was surprisingly calm.

He climbed in and said, "This will be a bit rough, and messy". With that, he pushed off and immediately disappeared from view. After another brief hesitation, she sat down on the dirty-looking slide and followed.

* * *

 **Harry**

With considerable effort, Harry got back on his feet. He cast a quick tempus and saw that in just a few minutes, everyone was supposed to be back, yet there was no sign of the DA members who had spread out to help look for the Horcrux.

He wondered if the fire-demon had died out inside the Room of Requirement, but wasn't sure if he dared opening the door to find out. He briefly considered his options. He could go look for Ron and Hermione, who might need help in the Chamber of Secrets, or perhaps wait for the others to warn them about the fire in the Room. He brought out the Marauder's Map and just as he was about to activate it, he heard the faint sound of footsteps from afar. He quickly put on his Cloak and cast a silencing charm on himself.

The sounds of the distant footsteps grew louder and he thought he could hear the sound of hushed whispers. He didn't need to wait long though before he could see Susan and Hannah approach with wands out. _Good_ , he thought in approval of their vigilance. Moody would have approved too, before he berated them for not being quieter or something. He missed the old Auror with his magical eye and scars from countless fights. He would have been so useful now; as a teacher and mentor, and as another trained wand in the battles that undoubtedly lay ahead.

"It looks like we're the first ones to come back", Hannah told Susan as they came to stand before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. "I hope that the others are ok", Susan responded, letting her shoulders drop slightly. She seemed tense, or perhaps just tired. "And that someone found what we were looking for", she continued. "I swear, we searched the entire dungeons".

Harry dispelled his silencing charm and spoke quietly as he removed the hood of his cloak. "It's alright. I think I know where it is".

The startled girls jumped at the sound of his voice coming just behind them. Hannah even dropped her wand in the process. When they realized who it was, she blushed and picked it up again.

"Merlin, Harry!", Susan exclaimed and scowled at him. She looked like a really angry witch at that moment. "I almost peed myself", she blurted out and it was only when Hannah began to giggle that it dawned on her what she just said.

"Yeah don't do that again, Harry", Hannah said, yet her relieved smile belied her attempt to admonish him. "The others back yet?"

He shook his head at that. He worried about the others and fervently hoped they would get back soon. Now that Susan and Hannah had arrived he decided to set out to find Ron and Hermione.

"Listen", he began. "I met Crabbe and Goyle inside the room". He quickly told them of his encounter and the fire-demon that Crabbe and conjured. The girls gasped in shock when they heard that both Slytherin boys were now dead. Even if they weren't well-liked, it must still be shocking to them that boys they had gone to class with for seven years had been burnt to ashes.

"It sounds like Fiendfyre", Susan suddenly said. "My aunt told me about it". Susan looked sad all of a sudden, eyes staring into the distance, doubtlessly thinking of her late aunt.

He would have to learn about this Fiendfyre, it seemed. His protego shield-charm really wasn't enough to counter it and had the caster been anyone else than Crabbe, he would likely have been toast now. It reminded him slightly of the fire Voldemort had conjured against Dumbledore in the Ministry of Magic. He couldn't remember what Dumbledore had done to stop it though. As with everything in that duel, in terms of the magic wielded and the spells wrought, it had seemed so far removed from any other duel he had ever witnessed as to be beyond belief. And he was supposed to face Voldemort himself one day…

Once again footsteps brought him back to the present. This time he could clearly hear several voices and a moment later, Seamus Finnigan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Michael Corner, Dean Thomas, Ernie Macmillan, Cho Chang and Terry Boot all arrived together. It seemed like all of the DA members who had set out to search for the Horcrux were back. But where was Luna?

As the other began chatting, he quickly brought out the Marauder's Map and activated it with a soft tap as he softly muttered the password. Curious glances were directed his way, but no one spoke to interrupt him.

The Map showed an almost empty castle and it was easy to spot Luna down at Hagrid's Hut. What on earth was she doing there? And why was she with Hagrid?

He searched for Ron and Hermione as well, but couldn't find them. It most likely meant that they were still down in the Chamber of Secrets. He couldn't decide if he should set out after Luna or go down to the Chamber. And time was running out. What was Luna thinking?

"Guys", he said, turning back to the group that had assembled around him. "There was a very lethal fire in the Room earlier but we need to open the door to see if we can still escape this way. I want you to be ready with shield-charms as soon as I open it." After he received nods of understanding, and thankfully no questions, he began to pace in front of the hidden entrance to the Room, thinking hard of his need to find the Room where everything was hidden. Where he hoped the Diadem would be.

After he finished pacing three times, the door reappeared in front of them.

"Ready?", he asked. After confirming that they had their wands out and stood at the ready to cast their shields, he slowly opened the now slightly sooty door with one hand, while his other hand held his wand in a tight grip.

Nothing happened. There was no heat coming out through the door and after the inferno he had witnessed earlier, he found the silence somewhat spooky.

He opened the door further and peeked in. What he saw was the Room, now full of … stuff. There were old brooms, books and various items of all shapes and sizes – a veritable mountain of forgotten things, hidden away by generations of students, and perhaps even by staff members. They had likely had no idea what they had stumbled upon. To them, it might have appeared like a dusty old broom closet; a perfect hiding place for whatever contraband they didn't want to be caught carrying. So good a hiding place that they themselves probably never found it again. He suddenly became aware of a strange presence in the Room and knew without knowing how, that the Diadem was there.

He motioned for the others to step inside. He quickly told them to look for the Diadem – but be careful if they found it – and perhaps anything else that might seem useful, and hold the Room until he returned. "If I'm not back in 20 minutes, go on to Hogsmeade. But by all means, don't engage the Death Eaters in a fight unless you have no choice."

Without waiting for them to answer, he turned around and set out for the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

 **Hermione**

When Hermione finally reached the bottom of the slide, she stood up on wobbly legs and immediately wrinkled her nose as the putrid stench reached her nostrils. Ron had his wand out with a _lumos_ already flaring from the tip. She saw that they were in a somewhat narrow corridor, with rocks and stones piling up to the ceiling on the far side of it.

Her blue jeans were in a sorry state and she quickly cast cleaning charms on both herself and Ron to rid them of the dirt.

"This is where I lost Harry", he said simply, looking like he had lost himself to his memories, as they reached what seemed to be the cave-in he had told her about. "I tried to dig myself through, but couldn't manage with my broken wand".

She conjured a lantern, lit it and put it down on the floor. Ron dispelled his _lumos_ and they immediately began to work on the pile before them, levitating rocks and stones with all their might. After a few minutes sweat was pouring down their brows but it seemed that they had barely made a dent in the pile. For each stone they removed, another seemed to take its place.

"This is useless!", Hermione said, filled with frustration. She stopped briefly and considered her arsenal of spells. Could she transfigure the rocks to water or something? No, she realized. It would require a lot of power and be beyond exhausting. What then could they do?

Meanwhile, Ron sat down on a rock, shoulders slumping. He looked as tired as she felt.

 _Use your brains, Hermione._

Suddenly she realized that while she couldn't transfigure all the rocks, what if she could start binding some of them together; enough to create a steady structure that could hold the weight of the rocks above them? Then they would only need to remove the stones that were still blocking their way.

She set to work on what looked like the narrowest part of the pile. Ron must have realized what she was doing as he began to remove stones from inside what now started to look like a tunnel. It was slow and tedious work, but after maybe several minutes they seemed to have gone through. The tunnel was now perhaps 12 feet long, but low enough that they had to bend over to get through it. _Well, at least it did the trick_ , she thought, quite pleased with herself.

"Good job", Ron said to her as he gave her a tired smile. He raised his wand again and cast a bright _lumos_ that lit up the fabled Chamber of Secrets.

Towering pillars flanked the green-tinted room and a large statue of what must be Salazar Slytherin stood in the center of the wall on the other side of the room. However, she barely noticed as her eyes fell upon the huge Basilisk corpse which rested peacefully on the floor.

 _Merlin's beard!_

Harry had fought that thing! It was simply unbelievable. She knew the story, of course, but it was quite something else to see the Basilisk for herself, even if it had begun to decompose. Chills ran down her spine as she pictured a very much alive Basilisk hunting for Harry.

Ron was staring wide-eyed at the Basilisk as well. He had been on the other side of the cave-in and had never actually seen it either. His reaction upon seeing the Basilisk was similar to her own. Harry had faced _that_ in order to save Ron's sister. She wasn't sure either of them could look at Harry the same way ever again. It was easy to forget all the things he had gone through when he had such a self-effacing demeanor. Well, used to have. He had changed since the fight in the Ministry. He was still as kind and considerate as he had always been, but he was also different somehow. She had pushed him into leadership when she had help create Dumbledore's Army back in fifth year, and she had seen him grow into the role since then. She only hoped that he would continue on the path she had helped set before him. It seemed to be his destiny, and clearly Professor Dumbledore had been of the same opinion. Just like being there, right by his side, seemed to be hers. And Ron's. All three had been joined at the hip ever since the incident with the Troll in first year. Well, Ron had occasionally been flaky due to his jealousy, truth be told, but she couldn't really fault him for it. Or at least not anymore. She had been very upset when he abandoned them during their search for the Horcruxes, but Slytherin's Locket had messed with them all and he had always been the most insecure, and therefore vulnerable, of the three of them.

She understood him, she thought. And he had been a child after all. A child who constantly competed for attention with his many siblings. Yet, he had come back and redeemed himself once again, just like how the fight in the Ministry had redeemed him of his actions during the Tri-Wizard tournament. She was certain that Harry felt the same, yet she knew that Ron was still embarrassed about all of that.

While hesitating at first, she gathered her courage and walked up to the Basilisk with Ron just behind her. She could see the dried blood from the whole Harry had punched in its upper jaw with the sword of Gryffindor; and the broken tooth that had in turn punched a hole in Harry's arm. Her eyes searched the floor nearby and it took but a moment before she saw the tooth lying only a dozen feet away from them.

"This must be the tooth that destroyed the Diary", she murmured to herself. Well, it was obviously the one, she realized. She fervently hoped that this would work on the rest of the Horcruxes as well.

She reached back for her bottomless bag and pulled out Hufflepuff's Cup which she placed on the floor in front of them. "How do we do this?", she asked him, but more to make conversation than because she truly expected him to figure it out ahead of her.

Ron surprised her however by pulling out a pair of thick dragon-hide gloves from his own bag. He quickly put them on and began to work on the teeth of the Basilisk. He grunted with effort, but after a moment managed to pull out another tooth. _It must be because it's decomposing already_ , she thought. He threw it on the floor and set to work on another one. After a couple of minutes they now had half a dozen teeth lying in front of them.

"Well, I suppose there's only one way to find out," he said. He picked up one of the teeth and moved towards the Cup. Suddenly an oppressive feeling came over her and her mind filled with thoughts of the need to protect the Cup. She tried to clear her mind, but the feeling grew inside her. She recognized it for what it was, and steeled herself as much as she could. The result was that while she was fighting her inner battle, she stood motionless as Ron came closer with his Basilisk tooth.

He must be fighting it too, she realized. She could see the look of determination on his face. He was straining, but thus far hadn't faltered.

With a loud roar he lifted the tooth up high and with all his might thrust the tooth down on the Cup. It shrieked terribly, but just as soon it was all over.

She released her breath that she didn't realize she was holding. And then she looked at Ron, who was sagging on the floor next to the now ruined Cup. She had never felt as proud of him as she did right then. Another Horcrux was gone and Voldemort was one step closer to mortality.

* * *

 **Harry**

He sprinted through the castle corridors and ran down the shifting stairs to the second floor. Time had run out and the full-scale attack on Hogwarts would begin any moment now, if it hadn't already. The bombardments he had seen earlier were just a taste of what was coming, of that he was sure. He needed to reach Ron and Hermione as soon as possible for them to make their escape. Breathing heavily he increased the pace.

He didn't need to wait long before he saw them, as it turned out. As soon as he turned the last corner and reached the corridor where Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was located, he saw them and let out a yell in relief. "Ron! Hermione!"

Surprised, but tired-looking, Ron and Hermione had just stepped out of the bathroom and began to walk towards him. He slowed down just before he reached them and engulfed them both in a hug. When he let go of them Hermione looked at him in shock for some reason. No matter. He had been so worried and was just glad to see them.

He quickly told them what happened and then listened to their tale from the Chamber of Secrets. He could hardly believe it had worked. Ron friggin' Weasley had actually opened the Chamber of Secrets using Parseltongue! "He was bloody brilliant!", Hermione had said.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that the Cup was no more and that they now had the means to deal with Diadem when they found it.

"Mate", Ron spoke up. "We should get back to the Room of Requirement and give Hermione the chance to destroy the next Horcrux." Hermione beamed at him upon hearing that. He wondered briefly what was going on between them.

"You go guys," Harry said, shaking his head. "Luna hasn't come back yet and I need to find her, and tell McGonagall and Flitwich that it's time to go." He turned to Hermione and smiled, "Take care of the Diadem for us, will you?"

Once again he checked the Map and saw to his horror that a lot more names had appeared on the castle grounds. The Map was crowded with names and he struggled to make out any of the names. After a moment he saw the professors standing close to the entrance door as the multitude of names slowly made their way towards them. There was however no trace of Luna. _Where was Luna, for Merlin's sake?_

He began to run again, fear for the quirky girl filling him, all the while he shouted at Ron and Hermione to go on and not wait for him. He couldn't make out what they shouted in response, but he could guess it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

Fortunately it wasn't far to the main entrance and he reached the heavy doors in just a few minutes. He stopped for a moment and tried to catch his breath. There were a multitude of shouts and loud explosions coming from the castle grounds.

With no time to lose, he stepped out into the night. The sky was lit with spells and he quickly saw that the Dome Flitwick had conjured was no more. He took in the sight before him until the howls of the fully turned werewolves caught his attention. He saw that they were engaged in a pitched battle against tens of suits of armor that were still standing. Several werewolves seemed to be on the ground, either dead or incapacitated. Behind the lines, perhaps a hundred yards in front of him, he saw McGonagall expertly waving her wand and transfiguring rocks into all kinds of beasts that attacked a group of Death Eaters that had circled the werewolves and the suits of armor and now shot all kinds of spells at her which she was forced to shield against. Now and then green killing curses were thrown at her, yet she deftly sidestepped them or levitated rocks to intercept them. He growled in anger at the sight.

Maybe 40 yards to her right, he saw Flitwick engaged with another group of five Death Eaters. The tiny professor was a sight to behold. The spells coming out of his wand were so fast and precise, and he saw two Death Eaters writhing on the ground, while others were continuously forced to shield against the onslaught. Flitwick himself didn't seem to use any shields, but danced gracefully around the spells that were cast at him.

 _They're using flanking maneuvers_ , he realized. They were clearly hoping to catch the two lone professors in the crossfire. Yet, the main group of Death Eaters waited patiently behind the lines of werewolves. Perhaps they preferred to sacrifice the werewolves first, or perhaps they were held back until they saw whether reinforcements would arrive to aid the professors. A little behind them and to the side he saw several giants unleashing destruction upon the now half-demolished Main Gate to Hogwarts. He wasn't sure why, but he supposed they got bored or something. Giants had never been known to be exceptionally bright.

In the corner of his eye he suddenly saw McGonagall be hit with a spell. She yelled in pain. With anger already at a boiling-point, Harry now saw red.

He hurled himself towards her, all the while bone-breakers and cutting curses flew from his wand. He must have caught the Death Eaters by surprise as he saw three of them fall to the ground before they brought their shields back up.

He ran towards McGonagall, while being forced to dodge a number of incoming spells. As soon as he reached her he put all his effort into the strongest _protego_ he could conjure, and saw that she was conscious, but clearly in pain, clutching a bloodied shoulder. His shield now buckled under the impact of several spells and he knew it would break any moment now.

"Professor!", he called out urgently. "It's time to go!" Seeing her bleeding shoulder he took a chance and released his shield and cast a quick _Episkey_ on her shoulder that made her wince in pain. He knew that wouldn't be enough, but to his relief it seemed to have stopped the bleeding for now.

She nodded to him in thanks, and all of a sudden she transformed into a cat that quickly began to make its way to the Castle. He could see that it was limping, but still managed to get back quick enough.

He dodged another spell and started to head back to the Castle. He saw that Flitwick was doing the same, but only after having dispatched all of his five opponents. _Merlin!_

Meanwhile, the suits of armor were now down to a dozen and all but surrounded by werewolves. He knew they wouldn't last long now, but they _had_ taken down numerous werewolves and dark wizards in the process.

They were now too far away for the Death Eaters to have a good chance of hitting them, but the incoming spells were many and they could still get lucky. He kept dodging as he made his way to the castle. Just as he was almost there, he saw another group of Death Eaters make its way up to the castle from the other side. Among them walked a man he would have recognized anywhere. Greasy black hair and black robes billowing in the wind.

"TRAITOR!", he roared as he threw himself forward, his wand blurred as he unleashed years of hatred for the one he hated almost as much as Voldemort. He cast cutting curses, bone-breakers, _bombardas_ and anything he could think of as fast as he could. He didn't manage to hit Snape who swiftly shielded against Harry's spells, but he did hit two of the other Death Eaters. One caught a cutting curse right on his throat, with blood spraying as he fell. The other let out a yell in pain as a bone-breaker caught his knee and he fell to the ground. Harry barely registered any of this, as he was caught up with his anger and hatred. He didn't even realize that he had forgotten to shield and if it wasn't for Flitwick who had come up beside him, he would later realize how close he was to die. Putting all his hatred into the spell, Harry cast _Sectumsempra_ on Snape with all his might. But just like last time, when Harry chased after Snape as Dumbledore's body still lay warm on the ground, Snape once again blocked the spell and called out mockingly, "You have to do better than that, Potter. Show me that you're not as worthless as I've always known you to be".

Just as he was about to unleash more spells, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Not now, Mr. Potter", Flitwick's soft voice spoke in his ear. Harry looked up and saw that the battle was nearly over, with the enemy forces advancing from all sides, and realized that they had to get out of there as fast as they could. Full of regrets for not getting his revenge on Snape, he quickly followed Flitwick back to the castle.

Once inside, he took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind of the anger and hatred. He needed to be calm for this. He hurriedly told Flitwick where to go and that he himself would sneak out again to look for Luna. The small professor frowned at him and looked like he was about to speak, but before he had a chance, Harry put on his Cloak, cast a silencing charm on his feet, and snuck out again, now perfectly hidden from view.

He counted on the fact that everyone had seen him enter the castle and that no one would guess that he had snuck out again in his Cloak. He wasn't sure whether Snape knew of the Cloak or not, but even if he did, he probably expected Harry to flee into the Castle.

He darted between the groups of fighters that slowly made their way up to the castle. There were so many of them. Hundreds. Not even counting the giants who were like small armies themselves. The dark wizards wore mostly dark robes, even the snatchers who wore no Death Eater masks, and they all seemed to have eager looks on their faces; doubtless thinking of the violence and rape they would unleash on the mostly helpless students. _Their day will come_ , Harry vowed.

The Cloak that allowed him to walk unnoticed in the midst of the enemy forces, was a wonderful artifact and he marveled at its usefulness as well as its history. While it had its limits, such as the fact that it did nothing to prevent his footsteps, or even breathing, from being overheard, it was still a marvel. His biggest regret was that he couldn't really use it in a fight. His sight was slightly limited; movement too, but this paled in comparison to not being able to cast spells from underneath the Cloak. Hermione and he had tested it extensively. He needed to free his wand to cast his spells, but this revealed exactly where he was and while wearing it he might simply be too slow to react as his mock duels with Hermione repeatedly had shown. Neither could he dodge the kind of spells he couldn't shield against. Unfortunately, those were some of the favorite spells among his enemies.

Legend held that the Cloak used to belong to Death itself, but Harry put little store in such fanciful ideas. More likely, in his opinion, was that the Peverell brothers had been exceedingly gifted and had crafted the items themselves, or perhaps found them somewhere. The truth was, as so often before, forgotten, while the myths and legends survived. The story of the Peverell brothers was known to all, as much a part of Wizarding culture as the Founders of Hogwarts. Perhaps not as much as the legends of Merlin, but he reckoned that few things were.

Apparently he was their descendant or something, at least of Ignotus who seemed to be the only one who could have fathered children. The main evidence was the fact that the Cloak had been passed down from generation to generation of firstborn male Potters. He had learned this only last year, while on the run. He still felt that he knew too little about his family. Well, besides the fact that it was among the oldest in Wizarding Britain, but he only knew of his parents and his grandparents. The latter were Fleamont Charlus Potter, known to his friends as Charlus, the creator of the Sleekeazy's hair potion and the reason for his small but comfortable wealth, and Dorea Euphemia Potter née Black. That last bit had really shocked him. He was related, however distantly, to Sirius. He had cried himself to sleep countless nights, thinking of his godfather; berating himself for his stupidity in believing the visions that Voldemort had all but spoon-fed him. But now he felt he had no tears left. Only a thirst for revenge remained.

He finally made it down to Hagrid's Hut. It had been torched and amidst the ashes, the embers were still glowing, but the perpetrators had already left. There was no sign of Luna or Hagrid. He was really afraid that they had been captured, or worse, that they had been killed, but he hoped they would have had the good sense to flee into the Forbidden Forest before the attack.

At this point he wagered that the DA members had moved on and joined the evacuation. The 20 minutes he had told them had already passed. At least they had if they listened to his instructions, but he couldn't be certain of that. He had no idea where the other students would be sent; some of them like muggle-born Justin who had come back to fight after a year of hiding, had nowhere to go. He imagined the Purebloods could simply go back to their families, but all the rest had to be taken somewhere and be kept hidden and safe. He had a feeling that Kingsley, Remus and the professors would know. After seeing Flitwick fight he had a feeling that against most threats, that did not include large forces or Voldemort himself, Flitwick would be able to provide excellent protection all on his own. It was too bad then that if Harry had his way, Flitwick would be needed elsewhere. A plan had already started to take shape in his mind.

Pushing aside all these concerns, he knew he needed to concentrate on the present; on finding Hagrid and Luna. And on staying alive. The Forbidden Forest was definitely not a place you simply walked into without a complete awareness of your surroundings, and wand at the ready. He emptied his mind completely, tightened the grip on his wand and stepped inside.

END OF CHAPTER 2

* * *

Author's note:

 **Moaning Myrtle's bathroom:** In the UK edition, it is found on the first floor and not the second as in the US edition. I never understood the reason for the discrepancy, but in most of the fics I read I believe the US edition has been followed and that's what I decided to do too. _Update: This has been explained by reviewers._

 **Magical population:** I prefer a larger population than Rowling's 3,000 in order to have a slightly more realistic economy and allow for larger forces at Voldemort's disposal. The somewhat low number of students relative to the overall population may be explained by the low birthrates due to the war. Or not. This is a fanfic based on a work of fiction that has plenty of plot-holes for all its inherent genius (think of Mrs. Weasley announcing the platform where Harry can hear it in the Philosopher's Stone, or just about any of Dumbledore's many strange decisions). Trying to have everything make perfect sense is a fool's errand.

 **Charlus and Dorea Potter:** Yes, I know this doesn't follow canon/Pottermore, but it's a popular idea in fanfics to have Harry related to the Blacks. I like the idea too so I'm using it by combining the names of his fanfic grandparents with those of his real grandparents.


	3. Chapter 3

" _It was necessary, therefore, to Moses that he should find the people of Israel in Egypt enslaved and oppressed by the Egyptians, in order that they should be disposed to follow him so as to be delivered out of bondage. It was necessary that Romulus should not remain in Alba, and that he should be abandoned at his birth, in order that he should become King of Rome and founder of the fatherland … These opportunities, therefore, made those men fortunate, and their high ability enabled them to recognize the opportunity whereby their country was ennobled and made famous."_

Machiavelli, The Prince

 _Author's note:_ I forgot to warn my readers that this story contains violence and coarse language. If this offends you, please stop reading here. A big thanks to everyone who has favorited and/or reviewed the story. It's much appreciated.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **Ophelia** \- _A few months earlier_

Deep underground in Whitehall, London, unbeknownst to the Muggles above, the Ministry of Magic was quietly operating. As it was late in the evening, the Ministry was mostly empty, but just as above ground, where most honest workers had gone home for the day, nightfall had not put an end to all the politicking and the scheming. However, beyond some politicians, overworked secretaries and the night shift of the recently gutted Auror Office, very few remained.

The hooded witch strode silently through the long and dimly lit corridor. While not hidden, few wizards or witches ever ventured into the Department of Mysteries on the 9th floor. What knowledge that exists in these halls would burn the minds of the untrained. The woman stopped in front of a simple wooden door, knocked twice, and waited. "You may enter", a voice sounded out as the door creaked open. The woman took a few steps, raised her eyes and said, "Unspeakable Croaker," she hesitated slightly, "the results are in and they don't look good, sir". Facing the intense gaze of her director, she continued, "If I may speak frankly, it is as we expected, our generation is magically weaker than the previous, and the next generation seems weaker still".

Upon hearing her words, no matter how expected they were, Director Croaker made a disgusted face. "And have you ascertained the cause?" he asked her as he pointed to the empty chair in front of his desk. She sat down gracefully, yet hesitated again before she replied, "We have, sir". She placed a thick report on his desk as she continued, "It's all summarized on the first few pages, but in short, our magic is getting weaker because our blood is getting weaker. On the one hand, the purebloods have lost a lot over the last century's wars, with many noble houses dying out. Those who remain have far fewer … options … for their sons and daughters. It seems that a certain amount of inbreeding has weakened many of the pureblood houses, resulting in an increasing amount of squibs, yet it's nevertheless the most potent magical blood". Dangerous words in these times. She paused, trying to gauge his reaction, before she continued, "On the other hand, the Muggle-borns often lacked the opportunities to fully integrate in our world after Hogwarts, and many of them have returned to the Muggle world in the face of the discrimination they encounter, often intermarrying with Muggles and thereby diluting the magical blood further. The truth is that we need them, yet you know as well as I do that our society has practically declared war on them". She stopped short of providing any recommendations; she had said enough as it was and she would never have voiced these opinions to anyone else in the Ministry than Director Croaker. She abhorred what was happening, but as Ministry employees, should their discussion be known, it would cause an uproar; they would be branded as blood-traitors, possibly executed, yet the Ministry held little sway over the work of the Department of Mysteries. Even in these horrid times.

Director Croaker leaned back in his big leather chair and sighed. "Unspeakable Greengrass", he finally said, "you know very well that we can do very little with these findings. The Wizengamot is firmly in the hands of the Traditionalists, with no other side strong enough to push through its agenda. Given who your husband is I know you're hardly unaware of all of this", he continued, referring to the Lord of the Noble and most Ancient House of Greengrass, an upstanding member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Director Croaker had an odd penchant for stating the blatantly obvious. Of course, even without her husband she would have had to live under a rock for the past year to be unaware of what was going on.

He stood up to indicate her dismissal. "I shall read the report and we'll revisit the issue at another date", he said. "For now, there's nothing we can do and we have other important matters to tend to. You know to what I refer", he finished in barely a whisper.

Only extensive training in the _mind arts_ stopped Unspeakable Greengrass from giving any visible reaction to his last words. Yet deep within she shuddered. She stood up and with a slight bow took her leave. The meeting had taken place just as she expected. _For all of his virtues, Director Croaker is not a leader_ , she mused as she started walking towards the Lift that would take her to the Atrium. She knew that true leadership was sorely missing from the magical world. Into that same vacuum, the Dark Lord had stepped in a few decades ago, wreaking havoc until he was finally stopped, but not until a heavy price was paid in blood. Many families were lost and others broken, yet the peace that was enjoyed after the Boy-Who-Lived somehow stopped the Dark Lord, was a peace of stagnation and entrenched positions. A _peace_ with the same leadership vacuum as before. And now, with the return of the Dark Lord, her country was once again at war. A shiver ran down her spine, sometimes she hated being privy to the secrets of the Department of Mysteries. Even when there was no Dark Lord at large, wizarding society had nevertheless been getting weaker, generation by generation, perhaps headed towards its eventual destruction, unless something happened, or someone stepped up. Yet no one had dared to challenge the late Chief Warlock among the Progressives, though he was like a red flag to the Traditionalists and to some extent to the unaligned pragmatic center as well, and everyone had treaded carefully around the wealth and power of the House of Malfoy. She threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and said, "Greengrass Manor" as she stepped into the emerald flames. She needed to think.

* * *

 **Neville** \- _Present time_

As he emerged from the hidden passage, stretching from the Room of Requirement to Aberforth Dumbledore's Hog's Head Inn, he was surprised by the scene that greeted them. It was not that the pub was packed with students, mostly standing and sitting around with fearful looks on their faces, and not that old man Aberforth was running around, muttering to himself, obviously perturbed by the entire situation. A few students had somehow got hold of a keg of butterbeer, which was now distributed far and wide to muted cheers. No, what was surprising was that some of the older Slytherins were held at wand-point in the far corner of the room.

He stepped inside and carefully floated the still unconscious Malfoy with him. He had begun to seriously tire from the exertion. He had never had to both levitate and float something for so long before. It made his first exposure to - and failure with - the levitation charm in Professor Flitwick's class seem laughable by comparison. Granted, he had been a tiny first year, still using his father's wand. But levitating a human being for a prolonged period of time while on the move, was quite a different beast from the feathers they had started out on. He had definitely come a long way since then. He marveled at it sometimes. They had thought him a near-squib, despite his Hogwarts acceptance letter. It had really taken him until his fifth year before he had acquired a measure of skill. His grandmother had been oh so proud; at least when she stopped yelling at him for his recklessness, when she heard that he had followed Harry into the Department of Mysteries and fought off Death Eaters. Joining Dumbledore's Army and following Harry had been the best thing to ever happen to him during his near seven years at Hogwarts and he didn't regret a thing. He had received an Exceeds Expectations on his _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ OWL, with an Outstanding on the practical exam, and significantly improved his others grades as well. The grade however meant nothing to him compared to the knowledge that he was in fact a _capable_ wizard.

He made his way to the corner where some of the Slytherins were held, receiving some surprised stares from students as he floated Malfoy before him across the room. He saw that the Weasley-twins were among those put to stand guard and he made his way to them.

"Hey Neville, what have you got for us today?" Neville thought it was George that had spoken, but he could never really tell the twins apart.

"Caught him trying to sneak back into the castle", he replied with a shrug as if it was not a big deal. "I wasn't going to let him".

He looked at the rest of the bound students and recognized a few of them. Millicent Bulstrode sat there with a scowl on her face. By contrast, Blaise Zabini sat next to her, seemingly without a care in the world, or at least his expressionless face revealed nothing of his thoughts or feelings. Nott was there too, as was Parkinson who sneered at her guards. As were some fifth and sixth years he didn't recognize.

He ungracefully dumped Malfoy next to them and found a chair for himself. He sat down with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

His rest was interrupted when one of the twins spoke again. "Eh, Neville, do you want us to wake ickle Malfoy from his beauty sleep?"

Without opening his eyes, he gave a slight shake of his head. "Nah, I'm too tired to listen to his threats or hear him whine. Just leave him until Harry decides what to do with him."

He thought he heard some of the students whisper amongst themselves, but only caught the words "… a cold one, he is" which he supposed referred to him, but he didn't really care.

He dozed off for what he thought were only a few minutes, but when he opened his eyes again he realized that it must have been longer than that. The Inn had begun to empty out and it was mostly Slytherins and older students who remained.

He turned back to the twins who were still standing guard. "Where are you taking everybody?" he asked softly. One of the twins, Fred he thought, put a finger to his lips and simply said, "Not here, Neville".

It made him blush in embarrassment as it occurred to him that they obviously couldn't discuss any safe-places with so many potential enemies present. Startled by the notion of having _enemies_ , he realized that he had thought of them like that for a while already. It was an open secret that some of the Slytherins' families were vocal supporters of the so-called Pureblood cause.

He got back up on his feet, already feeling much better. He looked around, searching for one of the professors. He saw Professor Slughorn in a corner, clearly busy talking to a mix of Slytherin students. They were not bound, but judging by appearances not allowed to leave either. He decided against bothering him.

He made his way over to the window and peaked out, but there wasn't much to see. After a minute of pointlessly staring out the window on an empty street, Remus Lupin entered the Inn. He too looked tired; robes dirty and worn out. Neville had long known to not judge by appearances though, and Lupin was a man he respected.

"Horace", Lupin called out as he made his way into the room. "I think you can allow them to go home now."

Professor Slughorn nodded gratefully in reply, and immediately motioned to the students to head to the Floo. Neville gathered they would soon be home and even if one of them should sound the alarm, there would be little left here to find once the Death Eaters had been notified.

Behind him he heard how the painting that hid the passage to Hogwarts swung open. To his surprise a cat jumped out, and he wondered at that before he recognized it as Professor McGonagall in her animagus form. She transformed back and now stood before them, sporting a deep-looking gash in her shoulder. Madame Pomfrey, whom he hadn't noticed before, rushed over to her and immediately began casting spells. He had no time to think about it before Flitwick jumped out of the passage. He sported a worried look; eyes scanning the room quickly.

"Hogwarts has fallen", he said in disbelief, looking like he never thought he would utter those words. Gasps rose from some of the remaining students, with the reality of the situation finally hitting home.

"Where's Harry?" he heard himself ask.

"He… went out again", the part-goblin professor replied in a barely audible voice.

"What do you mean?" Lupin demanded worriedly. Nothing seemed to get past his werewolf-enhanced ears.

"Minerva and I held them off… for a while… and suddenly Potter was there, throwing around lethal spells like he was dishing out candy", Flitwick paused for a moment, "We had to retreat though. I've never seen him so angry…" He stopped again, suddenly looking like he was avoiding Lupin's eyes for some reason.

"He… eh… he snuck out again once we were back in the castle", he nearly whispered.

"What?! Why would he do that?!" Lupin all but shouted. It struck him that he had never seen the normally so gentle man this incensed before.

Flitwick bore the outburst stoically. "He said that Luna and Hagrid were still out there", came the reply.

And that was so typical of Harry. He would risk everything if someone he cared for was in danger. Heck, he would risk himself even if he barely knew the person. It seemed like he just couldn't help himself.

Meanwhile, Lupin, who had found a chair, sat down with a defeated look, muttering inaudibly to himself. All around Neville, people sat or stood silently, each occupied by his or her own thoughts.

The quiet didn't last long however. The painting swung open yet again, and in came Hermione and Ron, swiftly followed by the rest of the DA who had stayed behind.

"We couldn't wait any longer", Hermione burst out almost apologetically, a blackened and obviously broken diadem in hand, addressing no one in particular. "They were trying to breach the door to the Room and we haven't seen Harry". She looked frustrated and worried at that. Ron looked much the same way. He understood perfectly well.

Before anyone else had the chance to reply, he spoke up. "That means we've got to move now". He knew he was right, but his words were still met with astonishment.

"What about Harry?!" came Dean's voice. "Yeah, what about Harry?" others echoed all around him.

He looked at them sharply. "Harry ordered us to move on", he told them forcefully, "and he would have wanted us to get everyone to safety", he continued after a moment's pause. Trying to assure them, he added, "Harry can take of himself and if there's anyone who could get out whatever situation he is in right now, it's him".

Some of the others nodded in agreement with that last part, while the rest still hesitated. They all knew how resourceful Harry could be when he was in a difficult situation. In any case, they had little choice. The Death Eaters would soon figure out where they had gone and all hell would break loose in Hogsmeade.

McGonagall, who now looked much better, finally spoke up. "We have to trust in Harry" she said, before she added in a whisper, "and may Merlin have mercy on him".

Silence reigned once again. No longer feeling like talking about Harry or whatever dangers he may be facing right now, much less dwell on how little they could do to help him, he went back to the bound Slytherins.

"Help me", he called out to those who still stood guard.

"Where are you taking them?" someone asked.

He merely shrugged and said, "I don't know where we are going, only that we have to go there now. And they", he said, pointing at the bound Slytherins, "are coming with us".

He met their shocked faces with steady gaze. "Why? I'll tell you why. Because they're too valuable to be left behind, that's why. We'll bring them along until Harry lets us know what he wants us to do with them." To him it was obvious that it was ultimately Harry's decision. He was their leader after all and Neville had vowed to follow him. To hell and back.

* * *

 **Daphne** \- _Later the same evening_

Daphne brushed the ashes from her robes with a flick of her wand as she stepped into Greengrass Manor. _It is good to be home again_ , she thought in relief as she took in the familiar surroundings. The house was warm and welcoming. The tapestries and portraits on the white walls served as a reminder of the long history of her family. The marble busts in the entrance hall depicted ancient Heads of the family. It was said that the family's origins had begun before the time of the Founders, but then the ancient families were all prone to wild exaggerations in order to revel in their glorious pasts. It was a common enough pissing-contest among Purebloods that she never had much patience for. Except for when it suited her political needs. She wasn't unaware of the inherent hypocrisy in that. Nevertheless, she was more concerned with creating a glorious future for her family name than to dwell on the remote past, but her prospects had as of late taken a turn for the worse. With the return and ascension of the Dark Lord, all bets were off; all plans needed to be revised; all old alliances either strengthened or abandoned while new ones would be needed to replace them. Despite the dangers of the new political situation, her cold _snake-blood_ was on fire with excitement.

She sat in her room, exhausted and spent. It had been a long night and it was well past midnight when she finally made it home. Along with most of the older students who had little to fear from the Death Eaters, she had been able to use the Floo at Hog's Head Inn. Well, at least as soon as they had been given permission to do so. For obvious reasons, the Slytherin students had been held back until the evacuation was almost completed. Part of her approved of the cautious dealings with her Housemates – _Merlin knew there were some rotten eggs there!_ – but another part of her was annoyed that many of the same suspicions were directed her way as well.

It was good to be able to relax for a while with all the craziness of late. She longed for a cup of tea, with a touch of honey, despite the late hour, and to take her mind off Slytherin House politics. Although she usually loved the political games they played in full seriousness, it had become awfully tense of late.

She had always kept her parents updated on the developments at school and she knew she really should wake them up and discuss all that had transpired with them. They would expect her to. But for the moment, she just wanted to sit down and gather her thoughts.

Normally, her many letters home would keep her parents informed of the intrigues among her fellow _snakes_ \- who befriended whom and what interesting gossip might help her father in the Wizengamot. Yet, she recalled that immediately after her welcome home dinner at the end of her first year, her mother had taken her aside and asked her questions about one Harry Potter in particular, including with whom he was friends, and much else. Back then, she had assumed it was just out of a general curiosity - a lot of people were still curious about the Boy-Who-Lived and now perhaps more than ever given that he was referred to as both _Undesirable Number One_ and _Chosen One_ at the same time - but her mom had kept pushing her at the end of each year to tell every last bit of detail she could recall and tasked her with finding out more.

As her mind wandered, she recalled that she had at first not been too impressed by Harry Potter. Boy-Who-Lived or not. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was a Muggleborn and not a wealthy one at that. He initially didn't seem to have much knowledge of the wizarding world and its culture. Yet, she had naturally dismissed the thought as being ludicrous. He was, after all, the last of the illustrious but reclusive Potter line, heir to a House even older and more distinguished than the Malfoys, or even the Greengrasses themselves for that matter. Every pureblood knew that even though the Potters themselves never made a big deal of their status. The Potters had been a force to be reckoned with for as long as anyone could remember. Not as wealthy as the Malfoys or the Blacks perhaps but still wealthy, yet the last remaining Heir had shockingly enough arrived at Hogwarts dressed like a pauper. Sometimes she thought that in hindsight, it was obvious why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had attacked the Potters. They had always been a thorn in the side of every would-be Dark Lord, even a casual reading of Wizarding history had made that clear. While rarely at the forefront of current politics, nor the typical well-connected socialites, the Potters had never been a family to mess around with.

Harry himself had been somewhat disappointing though. He seemed but slightly better than average in the classes they shared, and even atrocious in Potions. His initial feud with the Malfoy brat had at times been annoying and at times amusing. She had however always stayed far away from getting involved in that. How Draco had ended up in Slytherin was beyond her. _Most of the time he seemed just about as cunning as your average Gryffindor_. She chuckled at the thought, although very few things had amused her as of late. It continuously amazed her that he never seemed to realize that the people he was now lording it over would someday grow up and have influence of their own. He should build alliances, not make enemies. She doubted he was aware though. If the smiles aimed at him were a tad fake, he wasn't likely to notice nor care. Perhaps _daddy_ , with his extensive influence and wealth, really could solve all his issues. But if Draco didn't change his ways, it might eventually get fairly expensive for his father to keep bailing him out. Both in money and favors owed.

Her amusement soon turned into a sour face as she recalled his haughty words of her being his intended. At times he almost acted like they were already betrothed, despite his relationship with Pansy. It annoyed - and frightened - her to no end. She fervently hoped that her father would never relent and give her away to the Malfoys. But as it seemed now in the current climate, her father may be forced to _sell_ her, or her sister, in return for protection. She hated it, but understood it at the same time. She would do anything for family, not the least to keep her sister away from a loveless marriage. _But did that have to include marrying Draco Malfoy?_

She turned her thoughts back to Harry. It had been more than a year and a half since she last thought of him as _Potter_. After years of observing in silence, she had finally approached him during his latest fallout with Granger. Their spat in sixth year, of which the details still eluded her, had led him to wander around the castle, or sit and read in the library, alone. He had naturally been suspicious of her at first, but she had persevered. Slowly but surely she had shown him that not all Slytherins were his enemies; not all of them hated him or wished him harm. Yet, he never truly opened up to her. The previously open face – which for years had been so easy to read – had now become guarded; eyes calculating. She couldn't help but think that he would have done well in the house of green and silver, which really was a preposterous thought when it came to the Gryffindor Golden Boy.

Earlier tonight though, he had once again managed to defy expectations and change almost beyond recognition. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she vividly recalled the moment. He had stood there in the Great Hall, all assertive and projecting an inner strength she had never seen in him before, and somehow managed to sway both professors and students to abandon the castle that to date had never been deserted before, throughout all its long history.

Even when she had got to know him personally though, she still hadn't managed to crack the mystery that was Harry Potter. He had been surprisingly open during their discussions of the Wizarding world and its politics, on anything general actually, but as soon as she brought up the many rumors that always seemed to circulate about him, he had closed up and refused to comment.

She gave a chagrined smile as she remembered how she had initially thought that a few winning smiles, and a couple of accidental yet innocent touches, by a pretty girl, would be enough for him to open up and spill his secrets, but his answers had been evasive and she somehow knew that she only would only get as well as she gave with him. _Slytherin does indeed suit him_ , she thought with a chuckle, _who would have thought?_

She looked herself in the mirror. Her long wavy blonde hair fell softly on her shoulders. She had changed from her Hogwarts robes into a square-neck dress with chiffon sleeves. It was marine blue to match her eyes. She always wanted to look her best when she saw her parents for formal discussions. Even close family would take you more seriously if you dressed like you belong in the adult world. Satisfied with her looks she went to wake up her parents. She was Daphne Ophelia Greengrass, heiress of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass, and proud member of the _Sacred Twenty-Eight_. She hadn't succeeded in her ambitions yet, but she would not disappoint her family.

* * *

 **Harry** \- _Present time_

Darkness enveloped him as he quietly strode through the Forbidden Forest. The faint light from the stars above were just about enough to allow him to see where he stepped, but not by much. He had quickly discovered that trying to see through the Cloak made it a bit darker and he had after a moment's consideration decided to put it back in his bag. He couldn't be stumbling around blindly in this dangerous place.

Tired and thirsty, he kept moving even though he had no real idea where he was going. He didn't know where Luna was, or Hagrid, but he trusted the former gamekeeper to at least know what he was doing here. It had after all been his domain for the longest time and no one but the Centaurs likely knew the forest as well as he did.

He wasn't as sure about Luna though. Her whimsical personality seemed a completely inappropriate fit for a night-time stroll through the Forbidden Forest, with both Death Eaters and all sorts of dangerous creatures potentially lurking in the shadows. He hoped that they were still together and that maybe Hagrid could look after Luna. Assuming he found only one of them, he didn't much fancy the thought of then setting out after the other.

He briefly considered the possibility that they had apparated away, now that they had left Hogwarts behind. But to his knowledge, neither of them was able to.

He trod on, gruesome images on his mind, when suddenly his left foot was tangled up in some roots, causing him to stumble and fall flat on his face. _Merlin's balls!_ He cursed silently to himself as he tried to get back up. Here he was, worrying about Luna making it in the forest, while he himself had been felled by some friggin' roots!

Once he was back on his feet, he soon froze in place. Was that a sound? He couldn't tell for sure, but he thought he had heard something. The forest did carry sound far at night, mostly due to the eerie quiet. Both predators and prey knew to stay silent, especially at night.

Wary to make any more sound of his own, he slowly began to move forward. After only a few steps he realized that he had reached some kind of clearing and once again thought he heard something; a faint sound of distant voices. His felt his heart speed up, beating loudly in his chest; loud enough that he was certain anyone nearby could hear it.

The voices grew louder, but still not loud enough for him to make out any of the words. It definitely didn't sound like Hagrid or Luna though. He hunkered down and waited. Several moments passed without anything happening, only the leaves rustling in the wind.

Without warning, he suddenly heard a thud nearby and an irritated voice spoke up, loud enough that he could hear it clearly. "That's it! I've had it with this bloody forest!"

Another man responded, irritation evident in his voice, "Shut yer mouth, you fool! You know as well as I do why we're here. They can't have gone much further."

The voices disappeared again, but were soon replaced by the sound of footsteps, each step louder than the last. Still hunkered down, he didn't dare to move a muscle.

As the footsteps grew nearer, he quickly considered his options. If he stayed quiet enough, maybe they would pass him by and he could follow them. They were clearly hunting someone, and it wasn't too farfetched to think that they were likely after Hagrid and Luna. Then again, he was a sitting duck here in the clearing. It was probably the worst hiding place he could possibly find.

His choice was soon taken away from him as the footsteps were now upon him. He could make out the dark silhouettes of two men, making their way straight towards him. He could tell that only one of them was wearing a Death Eater mask. They drew nearer still, now only 20 feet away. He cursed his rotten luck.

The very moment they saw him and stopped in their tracks, he sprung up and sent a bone-breaker against them, hoping to catch them by surprise. Unfortunately his spell went right between them as they both instinctively darted away from each other. The one to his right, stumbled and fell, while the Death Eater responded with a curse of his own that was wide off the mark. In the dark the spells were all clearly visible. Harry began to move sideways to prevent any chance of them encircling him. The last thing he wanted was to be caught between their wands. There were few surer ways to lose in a fight against two opponents.

The maskless man who had fallen now stood on one knee, and yelled, _"CRUCIO!"_

Harry managed to dodge the torture curse, but a silent bone-breaker by the other man hit his left thigh. _Merlin that hurt!_

He knew his leg wouldn't support his weight any more. Barely raising a shield in time, he intercepted another curse, before he struck back with a _Reducto_ that would have pulverized anything in its path. The Death Eater swiftly raised a shield to protect his companion. Harry's spell smashed into it hard, but left the man behind unharmed even as the shield shattered. Right then he knew he'd soon be dead if it continued like this.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Harry threw himself on the ground as soon as he saw the unmistakable green light of the killing curse coming his way, but cried out in pain as he landed on his injured leg.

Another spell hit the ground beside him, and he instinctively rolled away. The next spell was caught by a _protego_ he managed to raise, but he didn't move in time to avoid the one after that.

" _CRUCIO!"_ was all he heard before his world erupted in pain.

After a few moments the pain ended and through his agony he thought he heard a loud thump. He opened his eyes just in time to see an arrow deeply embedded in the chest of the one he thought had tortured him, before the man fell to the ground.

Shaking uncontrollably, he gathered his last strength and raised his wand. _"SECTUMSEMPRA!"_ he cried out.

This time the spell flew true and hit the Death Eater right in his side, just as he had turned to engage the new theat. The man fell screaming; his body convulsing as he bled out on the ground. After only a moment he too was hit by an arrow and brought out of his misery. He grew quiet and did not rise again.

Exhausted, Harry allowed himself to drop back to the ground, wincing in pain as he did. With the spasms from the torture curse still bothering him, he couldn't muster enough energy to even wonder who had saved him. He was sure he had been about to die.

He didn't lie there for long though, before he heard the sound of hooves approach him.

"Human, are you alive?" a voice asked him.

Harry let out a grunt in reply, and managed to look up only to find three Centaurs standing a few feet away, heads tilted slightly as they watched him. While they still held their bows at the ready, no arrows were nocked. He knew it didn't matter much; they were fast draws and in a heartbeat they would be able to punch three holes in him, well before he'd be able to defend himself. Especially in his current state.

He struggled to get back on his feet, and with an injured leg it took him some time. He looked at the Centaurs who observed him in silence.

"I'm in your debt", he managed, awkwardly attempting a bow as he remembered the importance of showing respect. "If you hadn't been there … if you hadn't come …" his voice trailed off.

The Centaurs glanced at each other before one of them spoke; their leader he assumed. "Human, you're trespassing. If the stars had not told us to expect you, we might have attacked you the same as the rest of the invaders. The omens bear ill tidings tonight. Have a care, human."

With that they turned around and left, the sound of their hooves grew faint until it disappeared altogether.

He was now alone again, injured and tired. First he needed to deal with his leg and so he cast a silent _Episkey_ on it. He knew it wasn't enough, not by a long shot, but it was the only healing spell he had learned. Learned and perfected on the run. It was among the select spells he could now cast completely silently. Most of the others were battle spells. _Episkey_ was really meant to treat minor injuries, certainly not this level of injury. He was fortunate enough that the bone-breaker hadn't been strong enough to completely destroy his leg, but the fracture he had suffered was indeed very painful. The pain subsided a little with the spell, but he had to cast it again several times before he dared to attempt putting weight on his leg. It held, but just barely.

Now limping, he went over to the fallen men. He first went over to the man who had been killed by an arrow. His unstaring eyes were open in death. He didn't recognize the man however, probably just a Snatcher. He went over to the Death Eater who had a very deep gash in his side. The effects of the _Sectumsempra_ weren't pretty. After a moment's hesitation he removed the mask only to look into Walden Macnair's unblinking eyes. The former executioner had died with a scream on his lips. Harry was surprised that he felt nothing. He was the one who had attacked them, but to him they were both fair game. It worried him how little their deaths meant to him though. _When did I get this cold?_

He brought his thoughts back to the situation at hand. He grudgingly realized that he had done what he could, little though it was. He wasn't really able to walk. He had no idea where Luna and Hagrid were. He should have asked the Centaurs if they knew, but hadn't had the chance. If she had still held on to her DA coin he might be able to send her a message. Then he remembered that she had never been given one of the new coins Hermione had created on the run. In fact, only he, Hermione and Ron had them.

With a sigh he pulled out his coin and activated it. _Where?_ He asked simply.

The reply came but a brief moment later and so with a faint pop he disapparated away. As he tried to regain his bearings, he crouched down, wand at the ready. However, there were no enemies here. A moment later he was greeted by excited voices, saying,

"It's Harry. He's here!"

END OF CHAPTER 3


	4. Chapter 4

" _When you are not able to defeat your enemy, take a defensive stance. When you are able to attack the enemy, do so. One should go on the defensive when one feels he has inadequate strength, and should attack when he feels his strength is plentiful. When one is on the defensive, he should hide himself as if he has been swallowed by the earth, while those who go on the offensive should attack as if they are a flash of lightning out of the heavens. This way, they are able either to protect themselves, or to attain a total victory."_

Sun Tzu, The Art of War

 _Author's note:_ Now that Hogwarts has fallen, the story will expand, with more stuff going on. This will undoubtedly affect the pace at which events unfold and the speed by which I can write new (and probably longer) chapters. Just a heads-up, in case some readers have come to expect a few quick battles, followed by weddings and an epilogue.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **Harry**

The following day Harry woke up in the tent Bill had given them while on the run, feeling quite disoriented. Last night he found himself back under the tender care of Madame Pomfrey, who had berated him for running off alone again. _So many things keep changing, while others never do_ , he thought with amusement.

He yawned, stretched his limbs and felt for any pain in his leg. It seemed as good as new, from what he could tell while still lying down. The swelling was down and it felt normal. He should probably learn some better healing spells if he planned to survive the war. As it was, he wasn't sure if he'd be around long enough to face Voldemort despite the words of the prophecy. He didn't know if he truly believed in it anyway. Who could even tell what it meant? Would knowledge of the prophecy, that _either must die at the hand of the other_ , simply cause others to not even _try_ to kill Voldemort, thus making the prophecy self-fulfilling? Should he ask others about it or would that necessarily lead to exactly that outcome he feared? He had no idea, but he decided he should ask Hermione.

And what was the unknown power he was supposed to have? _Love_ , as Dumbledore had suggested? It seemed too convenient an explanation; something you said when you either didn't know the answer or didn't want to tell. Well, he clearly had nothing else going for him, so why not? He snorted at the thought. He had been through that discussion with Hermione many times and she kept accusing him of becoming too cynical, while he preferred to think of himself as a realist.

The marking as an equal seemed fairly straightforward; his scar certainly kept reminding him that it was there. It had flared up in excruciating pain again last night. He had first _felt_ Voldemort's joy upon entering Hogwarts, and then _seen_ how that joy had turned to terrible anger as he discovered that the Diadem was missing. Hermione had shown him the remains of it, and it wasn't pretty. But what did it mean to be Voldemort's equal? His ability to speak Parseltongue? Maybe. He certainly wasn't on par with the Dark Lord in terms of magical ability and skill. He reckoned Dumbledore had been, but then the prophecy wasn't about him and he was no longer around.

That still hurt, even after a year. He had been very upset with Dumbledore towards the end and part of him still felt betrayed by the old Headmaster. Another part wished that Dumbledore was still around to tell him what needed be done.

The old man always held his cards so close to the chest that no one really knew what he thought. While Harry didn't believe he had been outright _lied to_ , he knew there was much he simply hadn't been told. Even the snitch he had _inherited_ was all but useless. He wasn't about to challenge the Dark Lord to a game of Quidditch, so maybe he should just crack it open to see what was inside rather than wait for the supposed end?

He supposed it was easy enough to blame the Headmaster for all the ills that had befallen them. Even Hogwarts had fallen, though perhaps that it was his fault in a way, for seeing what needed to be done when no one else had. They had all come there expecting a fight. _Brave lions_ , he smiled fondly. He felt that if he hadn't embraced his Slytherin side before coming there he would probably have ended up dead. And so would at least half of the others, before they were routed. If they were lucky.

He sighed. It did him no good to dwell on this. He had run these thoughts through his head countless times already, to no avail. He might as well get up and be useful. Luna and Hagrid may still be missing and there was much else that needed doing. Having made the decision he got up and dressed quickly. His leg felt fine and it seemed that he once again had racked up a debt to Madame Pomfrey. He put on his glasses, grabbed his wand and headed out.

Once outside he saw a cluster of small tents. Where they had got them from he had no idea. It was a beautiful day in early May, but he only noticed it in passing. There was simply too much on his mind. He merely nodded to the words of greeting that reached him and set out to find Moony. As the place was small, it didn't take him long and eventually he found him enjoying a cup of tea in quiet conversation with Mr. Weasley, Bill and Fleur.

"Harry", they greeted him. "Why don't you join us?" Bill offered as he looked around for another cup.

Accepting the cup of steaming black tea gratefully, he took a small sip and sighed contentedly. "What made you think of this place?" he asked curiously and sat down on an empty chair. He guessed that it had simply been conjured or transfigured from something else. They had undoubtedly had no time to bring proper furniture to the forest.

"Was Hermione's idea", Remus answered while looking at him intently. "Said the three of you hid here not so long ago and that you would know of it".

He nodded in understanding.

"You think we can keep it a secret for long though?" he asked. There had been not a few Slytherins among the students who had been evacuated. Looking around he realized that unless the expansion charms on the tents were impressive beyond belief, most of the students weren't even here. Before he had the chance to ask, Mr. Weasley spoke up.

"We sent most of the students away before coming here, so they are none the wiser."

Harry nodded at that. It made sense he supposed, as those that had truly had reason to fear the Death Eaters had not returned to school in the first place. No need to keep them all around. More mouths to feed.

"Brought some of the Slytherins with us though", Remus added. "Neville said you'd decide what to do with them". He looked at Harry questioningly.

 _What was Neville on about?_ Harry wondered. It struck him that it had perhaps not been a bad idea after all. _We got ourselves some bargaining chips now_ , he realized after a moment's thought. He didn't actually know who had been brought along, but he'd be willing to wager a guess. Remembering that he had told Neville to take care of Malfoy he assumed he would be among the captives.

"Right", was all he said.

"And?" Remus' eyes bore into his as he seemed to take his measure.

"And they'll be taken care of", was all he offered ambiguously. He hadn't made up his mind yet, but wasn't ready to share whatever thoughts he had begun to develop.

Eager to switch subject, he asked, "Luna and Hagrid back yet?"

They merely shook their heads in response. _Damn_.

"You okay zere, 'arry?" Fleur asked suddenly, voice tinged with concern. He shrugged. What could he possibly answer to that?

"I'm still here".

Remus too gave him a concerned look. When he looked around he saw that in fact, they all did.

"I'm okay, truly". He felt that was a little better. Maybe. Judging by the looks they still gave him, it seemed to have done little to reassure them.

"You've changed, Harry", Remus spoke again. Harry got the feeling for a brief moment that the wolf inside his uncle seemed like he had encountered an unfamiliar smell and tried to make up his mind about it.

He considered Moony's words quickly. Well, there was the fact that Sirius was dead, due to Harry's own mistakes. Then Dumbledore was next, for trusting a traitor. After that they had spent close to a year on the run and almost got killed multiple times, only to show up again and drag Voldemort's forces with them, causing the loss of Hogwarts. Pray tell, how could any of that possibly have changed him? He fought down his anger at the memories.

 _Clear your thoughts_ , he admonished himself yet again _._ He had found that this was the only way he could regain control of his feelings. A moment later he met their eyes again with a serene face.

"What makes you say that?" he asked simply.

Remus looked at him for a while, before he shrugged.

"I suppose I shouldn't have expected you to be the same when you showed up at Hogwarts… it's just that…"

Deciding not to let them pursue that line of questioning any further, Harry quickly cut Remus off and brought the conversation back to Luna and Hagrid.

"I'm going back to the Forbidden Forest soon to continue searching", well once he got something to eat at least. "Will you come?" He had directed the question at Remus, but Bill and Fleur immediately volunteered. After barely a moment Mr. Weasley and Remus did too.

"Great. I'm going to find some food but then we should head out. In an hour?"

They all nodded, looking somewhat startled. Probably at the way he had changed the conversation, decided upon a course of action and simply invited them to join _him_. Well, the best way to get people to follow was to seem like you knew what you were doing and then just do it. He was done following other people's direction.

When he had eaten, a simple meal of whatever Mrs. Weasley had managed to scrape together from their meager stores, he got back up again. He had another thing that weighed heavily on his mind and for that he needed to find Flitwick.

Spotting the tiny professor wandering about between the tents, he quickly made his way toward him. When Flitwick saw him coming, he turned to face Harry.

"Ah, Mr. Potter", he said. "You gave me quite a fright yesterday when you ran off like that. May I please ask you to refrain from similar actions in the future?" The professor wore his usual care-free smile, but there was concern evident in his eyes.

"Eh, sorry Professor", Harry apologized awkwardly. He _did_ feel a little bit guilty about that. Not much, but a little.

"Oh, well. I suppose you had a valid reason", the part-goblin continued cheerfully as if he was discussing the weather rather than yesterday's full-scale attack on Hogwarts that both he and Harry had been in the thick of. He truly was a strange one.

"Professor… I saw you battle that group of Death Eaters yesterday. You were… extraordinary", he didn't really mean to flatter him, but he supposed it came out a bit like that. "What I mean is that I'd like to learn from you… if you'd be willing to teach me?"

Flitwick just observed him intently. He hurriedly continued, "I faced two enemies in the Forest after I left, and I just… wasn't good enough." There. He had said it. It had been a bitter realization, but unfortunately that was the truth.

Flitwick seemed to consider it for a moment, before he replied.

"And I saw you, Mr. Potter. I admit that I was very surprised. Not just at the spells you used, mind you, although that was quite surprising too.

No, Mr. Potter, I'm referring to the speed and power with which you cast your spells, and the accuracy. Not many witches or wizards could do what you did. Not many could have attempted it and survived, let alone while protecting both yourself and someone else."

"Still, I was nothing compared to you", Harry replied bitterly. He was disappointed in himself. Not so much from what had transpired on the castle grounds, as from what had happened later. _He had to be better next time_.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. I haven't taken a dueling apprentice in quite some time", Flitwick's voice trailed off as his memories seemed to have caught up with him.

Harry was for the first time in a long while truly excited. At last he would get some proper training.

"Can we start tonight, Professor?" he asked. His excitement must have showed on his face, because Flitwick gave him a knowing smile.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter", smile broadening as he spoke. "Did you ever end up learning how to dance?"

* * *

 **Hermione**

She woke up at dawn, as she had wont to do for these past couple of weeks after the evacuation of Hogwarts. Birds filled the early morning with their song, singing happily about food, love and whatever it is birds sing of. _It must have rained again last night_ , she thought as she yawned. The air was crisp, the smell clean and pleasant.

She could barely remember when last she had managed to get a full night's sleep. Nightmares kept her awake most nights, and all she could do was to lie shivering in bed until the memory of them faded. There was one… _woman_ … in particular that haunted her dreams; cackling with glee as she tortured her with the _Cruciatus_ and carved _Mudblood_ into her arm. In her dreams, she relived it over and over again, until she woke up drenched in sweat. It was the same every night.

She touched her arm reflexively, tracing her fingers over the hideous word. It was part of her now and nothing Madame Pomfrey tried could rid her of it. Deciding not to dwell on it more, she climbed out of bed. The tent she shared with Ginny, Susan and Hannah was not very large, despite the expansion charms. There was just enough room for their needs. Having been forced to bunk up with Ginny, she had taken to casting silencing charms on her bed to keep from waking the youngest Weasley up.

Her stomach growled as a reminder that it was time for breakfast, despite the early hour. Maybe she could find an apple or a couple of biscuits. Mrs. Weasley was in charge of the camp's make-do kitchen, and while she too rose early, breakfast took a while to make, even with the aid of magic.

She exited the tent and looked around. The surrounding trees protected their little camp from the winds, yet she could see the treetops swaying back and forth. The grass in the clearing was still wet from last night's rain as the sun had not yet come out to dry the ground. She hoped it would. It was mid-May already and she was tired of casting warming charms.

She turned her attention back to finding something to eat. It was not like she was actually needed somewhere. That was perhaps putting it a bit strongly, but after being on the run and searching for Horcruxes, she had gotten used to making plans and taking action. Life in the forest had naturally seen a flurry of activity since the Hogwarts escapees had made it their refuge, yet beyond lending a hand here and there – and there was indeed always much that needed doing – she hadn't felt that she was truly integral to any of their efforts. This kind of bothered her.

Almost every day since their arrival had seen newcomers who came alone or in small groups; some of them in tattered robes, looking much worse for wear. Many with heart-rending tales of death and destruction. They were mostly Muggle-borns who sought a safe-haven from persecution – as well as hot meals and warm blankets, as many had been on the run with even less – but also half-bloods and suspected _blood-traitors_. Some of them came for Harry, she knew. Word had spread that he had been found, after almost a year of having gone missing, and now people rallied to him. Perhaps because they had nowhere else to go, perhaps because they bought into the talk of _the_ _Chosen One_. Somehow rumors had begun to spread about Harry's actions at Hogwarts. Well, there had _always_ been rumors of Harry, as she very well knew. She had even heard it told that he had single-handedly fought and killed more than a dozen Death Eaters to buy time for the evacuation, while yet others said he slaughtered a whole pack of werewolves. She had no idea how those rumors had started.

She wasn't sure how the newcomers even found them. The Muggleborns were hunted, yet unable to escape the country. Some had tried to escape into the Muggle-world, but their families were kept on file and hiding with them simply wasn't safe, as bitter experience had showed. Yet others had perished in the war; Tonks' father Ted, whom she had briefly met, Dirk Cresswell, whom she hadn't. Each day it seemed added new names to the list. Others had been thrown into Azakaban on ridiculous charges; the Cattermoles came to mind, and so did Donaghan Tremlett of the Weird Sisters.

Not everything was bleak however. Luna and Hagrid had been found hiding with the Centaurs. She vividly remembered the worry on Harry's face as he limped into camp that first night. It hadn't taken him long after being healed by Madame Pomfrey, and suffered one night of bed-rest on her orders, before he assembled a small team and once again set out to keep searching. They had apparated back to the Forbidden Forest and eventually come across the Centaurs. Strangely enough, Luna had apparently been expecting them. She reportedly said that she knew he would come that very day and then something about wrackspurts, _or was it nargles or dapperblimps_? She rarely made much sense to Hermione, but it was a relief to have her back.

Hagrid too. He had left with Luna shortly before his hut was attacked. Luna had persuaded him somehow to follow her to the Centaurs, but it wasn't clear why or what convinced him to come along but was lucky that he had.

She continued on her way to the "kitchen" as she pondered the enigma that was Luna Lovegood. If anything she had become even stranger since her captivity and subsequent escape. She wagered it was a defense-mechanism of some sorts. But Luna kept saying the most random things. For some reason the Centaurs had become quite taken with her and told her that _Death_ stalked its prey again, among other strange things Hermione couldn't quite remember. It was written in the stars, they had said. That piece of news had not been well-received by those who overheard. Most people generally preferred to avoid talking about death. There had been too much death of late as it was.

"Wotcher, Hermione", a soft voice brought her out of her thoughts. She turned around and saw Tonks appear from behind a bush. She was clad in green and brown robes and her hair and skin color blended perfectly in with the surrounding environment. No pink today, it seemed.

"Tonks," she replied. "You're on duty, I take it?"

The adults and former DA members all took turns standing guard. Well, all but Harry actually, she thought with a frown. He was always busy and spent a lot of his time in quiet conversation with Remus, Bill, Tonks and Kingsley; at least he did when they weren't dueling. She had also seen him conferring with Ron and Neville, who had also taken to duel for hours every day, with several others of the DA joining them when they could. She felt that she only really saw him when she joined the dueling as well. It's like he's obsessed. On top of that, Harry even left with Professor Flitwick for several hours each night, doing Merlin knew what. _By Morgana_ , he even seemed to spend more time with the captive Slytherins than her! She realized that what truly bothered her was that he had relied on her for so long, but now she didn't know what he was thinking.

She herself had another guard shift coming up at noon. She usually only had to guard the tents, while the few Aurors among them often patrolled the outer perimeter, as far as the River Severn to the South and the River Wye to the North and West. So far they had kept their distance from the Muggle city of Gloucester. They didn't rely on guards alone though. There were also all kinds of wards put up under Bill's and Flitwick's supervision. She had been glad for the opportunity to learn from them.

Tonks nodded in response. "Shift started just after the rains. Seamus and Dean must have forgotten that they're wizards. They came back soaking wet", she laughed softly.

Tonks was her usual cheerful self. She rarely seemed to lack for things to laugh at, yet the news of her father's death some months ago had taken a toll on her, although the bubbly Auror hid it well. She was a mother now and Teddy really was the cutest thing. She didn't stay around to chat however, and so Hermione too continued on her way. She really did need to find some food.

As she approached the kitchen she turned her thoughts to Harry. She could see how on each passing day he stepped into the vacuum that the death of the Headmaster had left behind. She was proud of him, but still wished he would share his thoughts more.

She entered the tent that was strictly Mrs. Weasley's domain. The matron was already busy with preparations for breakfast. Hermione watched briefly as Mrs. Weasley worked her magic; with several chunks of dough kneading themselves, and knives spelled to chop vegetables in large quantities. Gone were the Hogwarts days of greasy eggs and bacon for breakfast, although once in a while they had that too. Instead of pumpkin juice, they got large kettles of tea and coffee. Their shopping was done among Muggles these days, but money was rather tight. In place of meat, they ate rice, potatoes and beans. It was perhaps a bit bland, but filling enough.

She exchanged a few words of greeting and upon Mrs. Weasley's nod helped herself to an apple and sat down on a simple stool. As she munched on the juicy fruit, she found herself thinking of Harry's scar and its strange connection to Voldemort. No one had ever heard of a scar that behaved this way, yet no one had ever heard of someone surviving the killing curse either. _Who knew what the effects of surviving the killing curse were?_ Generally people seemed to be satisfied at that. But she refused to be. She had asked around and researched extensively, but so far she had come up empty-handed. She knew that it still troubled him; that the pain grew intense at times, usually when Voldemort was happy or angry. It just didn't make sense for an old curse scar to behave this way. _Why should such a connection exist between them?_

She had asked herself this question many times. Perhaps there was only one place that held the answer; the restricted section at Hogwarts library, but going back there was out of the question. And if the Headmaster had known the answer, he had taken it with him to the grave.

Suddenly it dawned on her that there was perhaps one other place. One family in particular had been known to delve deep into the Dark Arts; only one family had been ancient enough to stay around for many centuries while practically hoarding books of a rather questionable nature. _The Blacks_.

She finished her apple, got up from her stool and threw the core away. She needed to find Harry.

* * *

 **Daphne**

A month had passed since Daphne and her sister abruptly had to cut their school-year short. Astoria was supposed to take her OWLs this year, and Daphne her NEWTs. Fortunately the school year had almost been over and the remainder of the time would have been spent reviewing, rather than introducing anything new. As of now, they were both scheduled to take their tests at the Ministry of Magic in a few weeks time. This is how she found herself sitting next to her sister in the family library for the past month going over her notes, and since she was of age, unlike her sister, she was also able to practice the spells.

"Gah!", a frustrated Astoria burst out from her seat next to Daphne's. "How am I supposed to take my OWLs if I can't practice for more than a month before the examinations?! I'm going to fail!"

Daphne had heard the ever-recurring rumors that Pureblood minors could use magic at home if they were behind strong enough wards, but that was a bunch of hippogriff dung if she'd ever heard any! The only ward she'd heard of that could do that was the _Fidelius_ , but that was so rare as to be practically unheard of.

She would admit to having some privileges, such as legal protection for minor offences as most were prepared to look the other way if it involved a member of the great houses, not that she had ever committed any. But if Purebloods could practice magic at home, wouldn't they have outshined their peers? Yet she never saw any sign of that. Even Draco for all his bluster had come to Hogwarts not knowing how to cast a _Lumos_ properly. Magic was dangerous and uncontrolled until the child reached a certain maturity. While some seemed to mature slowly at first, like Longbottom, most 11 year olds had reached sufficient maturity to cast basic spells.

"You're going to do great, sis!" She tried to encourage her sister, but her words sounded hollow even to her own ears. With a sigh she started to put away her books and notes. She had done enough today and couldn't bear reviewing more Goblin rebellions right now. She had been one of the few who pursued her NEWTs in History of Magic. Something she had regretted for almost two years.

"Mother should be back soon. You should ask her if she or dad can arrange some private tutoring at the Ministry. I'm sure your friends' parents wouldn't mind chipping in as well, their kids are in the same boat." She got up and exited the library. As she made her way down the stairs to the sitting room she turned her thoughts to Tracey. Her best friend hadn't responded to her latest owl for over a week now and she was starting to get worried. It wasn't entirely unusual for Tracey to take her sweet time writing back – she was always so busy and often travelled with her family during the summers – but if the latter was the case, she should have received a note or something. Besides, who travels right before her NEWTs?

No, Tracey had to have a good explanation or she would give her a piece of her mind when she next heard from her!

"Daphne?" Her father's voice called out. She hadn't heard him come in.

"Hi dad, how was your day?"

Damien Greengrass stepped into the room with a sour look on his face. It must have been a long day indeed, she thought.

"There was some ugly business at Gringotts today", he told her gruffly. "The Goblins are growing restless and practically _threw out_ a couple of Ministry workers from the bank today. Has something to do with Potter's break-in a while ago."

 _Didn't things always have to do with Harry?_ She wondered. She must have unwittingly given voice to her thoughts, because her father murmured softly as if to himself, "Don't I know it."

He took a seat on the couch, put his feet up and closed his eyes. He seemed to relax a bit. He kind of gave off the appearance of a man who stressed too much and was simply tired of it all. He continued in a softer voice, eyes still closed.

"Word is that they've started to demand certain answers… answers that haven't been forthcoming, if you take my meaning."

Daphne did and nodded in response. It must be awfully sensitive business for some reason. It probably didn't help matters that many of the Traditionalists who were now appointed to key Ministry positions were rather… undiplomatic… in their dealings with the Goblins, or those ' _dirty, greedy creatures'_ as they were more or less openly called. She shuddered at the thought of these _supremacists_ in charge of such sensitive dealings.

Her father paused, but Daphne sensed that there was more.

"And what else?"

"They too have promised a reward for whoever brings them Potter, and they had all his assets frozen". That was indeed news. Freezing assets was an unprecedented move, to put it mildly. However, seeing that her father had fallen asleep prevented her from asking more. _He must really be tired_ , she thought with fond amusement. _Poor dad_.

As her mother hadn't returned from the Department of Mysteries yet and her father was sound asleep, she picked up the Daily Prophet and started flipping through it absent-mindedly. She had read it earlier that morning so there was nothing new. The Prophet had written for weeks already about the rescue of Hogwarts from an act of rebellion by terrorists, led by Harry Potter of course. The _Undesirable Number One_ , as they never failed to mention. According to the reports he had taken several students hostage, members of upstanding families at that, at an unknown location. The reward for him had gone up to 100,000 Galleons, dead or alive, and 50,000 for anyone who offered information that led to him being found. That was a lot of money.

He was not the only one on the _Wanted_ list though. It looked like the entire Weasley family was on it, her old Defense Professor Lupin too surprisingly enough, as well as several of her Professors and even some Aurors who had allegedly been associated with Dumbledore. The rewards for them were much lower though. _How do you always end up in these_ situations _, Harry?_

Regarding the now deceased Headmaster, the Prophet had returned to the old accusations that he had tried to take over the Ministry, but now the story was that his ultimate goal had been to enact radical reforms that stripped the old families of their positions and gave all power and positions to Muggleborns. Therefore some brave individuals had taken it upon themselves to stop him, _for the good of all_ , as it were. That was an awfully convenient way to sweep the murder under the rug, she thought.

She herself had been of two minds with regards to the former Chief Warlock, but this was ridiculous. In fact, to anyone with some measure of insight into the workings of the Wizengamot and the Ministry, it was clear that Dumbledore had purposefully avoided rocking the boat, so to speak. He hadn't acted against the discrimination of Muggleborns and he had refrained from wielding his influence to change the laws concerning werewolves and other creatures, even as he decried them in public. He hadn't really seemed to be _for_ anything, and that alone was a reason that some of the Neutrals had held him in contempt politically, _second coming of Merlin_ or not, while the rest had merely refrained from following him. What was it he had actually wanted? She remembered the many times her father had given voice to his frustration after yet another long Wizengamot meeting that had accomplished little.

It was not that the Neutrals themselves knew what they wanted in her opinion. They only agreed between themselves that the Traditionalists were _radical romantics_ who spoke dreamily of the distant past, while the Reformers spoke rosily – and not so realistically – about equality. Yet most of the reforms they came up with were too far-reaching for the Wizengamot to even consider. Ending discrimination was fine in Daphne's book, but forcefully replacing Purebloods with Muggleborns without any kind of assurance that the latter even understood and _respected_ the culture and traditions they would be in charge of upholding, was not. Forcing the rich Purebloods out of their Mansions and family businesses by enacting punitive taxes, would not only ruin the lives of some of the oldest families, but spell doom for the already halting economy as well. It's not like the old families weren't already the financial backbone of the Ministry. Few seemed to appreciate the fact that families, such as the Greengrasses, practically funded Hogwarts themselves, which was open to everyone with enough magic to attend. Including dirt-poor families like the Weasleys.

Well, the Reformers had been silenced; deprived of their support and disgraced by the fall of Dumbledore. The Traditionalists were now firmly in power and it showed in a multitude of ways, including in the pardon of many former Death Eaters. _Patriots_ , they called them now, she thought grimly, sent to Azakaban for their political views. She knew of course that the Dark Lord was behind them, yet it had never been confirmed publically.

She heard the Floo flare up as her mother stepped inside. She put down the paper to go and greet her. Her mother's face was pale as she cleaned the ashes from her robes. Daphne immediately sensed that something had happened.

"What's going on, mom?" she asked with a hint of worry in her voice. Her mother looked away and seemed to avoid her eyes for some reason. She seemed to take a few moments to gather herself and took a deep breath.

"Daphne dearest…" Her mother began and took Daphne's hands into her own. "It's about Tracey", she said. "Her mother has been sent to Azakaban on charges of having stolen magic, and her father… well, Mr. Davis was found this morning." Her mother's eyes had tears in them, but Daphne felt like she was frozen in place. Unable to react, unable to speak.

"He's dead, Daphne", her mother finally said in a whisper. "I'm so sorry, but Tracey has disappeared and no one knows where she is. There's even an arrest-warrant for her at the Ministry, that poor sweet girl".

She felt her world crash around her. Then the tears began to fall.

* * *

 **Harry**

It was midday in the Forest of Dean. The sun shone mercilessly upon the duelers on this unusually hot day, as sweat ran down their brows and into their eyes. Harry's shirt was plastered on his back and he knew the others weren't in any better shape.

He swiftly dodged a stunner and returned one of his own. He didn't wait to see the result however, but quickly spun around and cast a banisher at his second opponent. His movements were fluid and he acted on pure instinct.

The banisher had barely left his wand before he dove forward and cast another stunner when he was halfway through his roll. He heard the spell smashing through a shield that must have been too weak to block it. _Susan's out_ , he knew.

He saw a jet of red light in the corner of his eye, and raised a shield of his own to protect his left flank. Barely a heartbeat later he rapidly cast a stunner, followed by a disarming charm of his own, on Neville who was in front of him and who had taken a protective stance.

Neville managed to protect himself against the stunner, but as his shield broke the disarming charm caught him square in the chest. His wand flew to Harry who caught it just as he saw the other man fly backwards and land on the ground with a loud thump. With only Ron left, he held Neville's wand in one hand and his own in the other. Ron eyed him warily before he launched a quick spell-chain. Harry side-stepped the first stunner, ducked under the follow-up disarming charm and swatted the banisher away with a flick of his wand.

Wide-eyed Ron simply stared at him. Harry gave him no time to breathe but sent spells of his own at a dazzling speed. It didn't take long before Ron lay stunned before him.

" _Bloody hell, Harry!"_ Bill cursed in a stunned voice. He was the only one who spoke up, the others just stood there in amazed silence. There were quite a few people who had gathered around as they had taken turns at dueling each other. When it was clear that no one came even close to defeating Harry, they had begun to team up until they had been three against one in the last duel.

Harry himself was utterly spent. It had been several weeks since he had started taking lessons with Flitwick and the proof it had paid off handsomely was before him. He had however grown restless. And not only he, but almost everyone was muttering about their desire to do something. They were spoiling for a fight, urged on by the seemingly endless stream of bad news that reached them lately.

Hermione had approached him a few days ago and he had spent the time he wasn't practicing on planning his next move. He had made up his mind and the path ahead was clear to him at long last.

As no one else spoke, he gathered his things and started to head back to his tent. He desperately wanted to clean up.

"Harry," Ron called after him before he had gone very far, "what do we do now? What's the plan?"

"First we reclaim Grimmauld Place. Then we hunt Death Eaters." Harry responded grimly. From the way they looked at him in confusion, he didn't think they believed him. But he could feel Hermione's eyes drilling into him. She knew.

END OF CHAPTER 4

* * *

 **Author's note:** Harry's response to Fleur's question ("I'm still here") is a reference to one of my favorite fanfics. If you haven't done so yet, do yourselves a favor and check out "I'm still here" by kathryn518. If we're lucky we'll get an update this year, and if we do, I'm sure it will be well worth the wait.

Also, the last paragraph is a shameless reference to Perrin Aybara's words to go hunt Trollocs (The Shadow Rising, by Robert Jordan). Perhaps you recognized it.


	5. Chapter 5

" _A prince ought to have no other aim or thought, nor select anything else for his study, than war and its rules and discipline; for this is the sole art that belongs to him who rules, and it is of such force that it not only upholds those who are born princes, but it often enables men to rise from a private station to that rank. And, on the contrary, it is seen that when princes have thought more of ease than of arms they have lost their states. And the first cause of your losing it is to neglect this art; and what enables you to acquire a state is to be master of the art."_

Machiavelli, The Prince

 **Chapter 5**

 **Neville**

Finally being allowed some rest, Neville wiped the sweat from his forehead with the palm of his hand. The drills that Tonks and Kingsley put them through were torturous. Each day they practiced one drill after the other. He flinched as someone jokingly shouted " _Shield!_ " behind him. _Bloody hell_.

He shot a look of annoyance over his shoulder. The Weasley twins met his eyes evenly with wide grins on their lips.

They had practiced this particular Auror technique countless times. While working in pairs, one was supposed to focus on protective spells while the other was free to go on the offensive. It sounded fairly simple in theory and none of them had been too impressed at first, but to actually get it right was an entirely different matter. For starters, the one who had the defensive role must drop the shield at the exact moment his partner was ready to cast a spell. This in turn needed to take into account both your opponent's position and the angle of the shield. It wouldn't do to have your shield attacked from both sides.

He had partnered up with Ron during the last round and found to his surprise that they worked excellent together. They seemed to know instinctively how to read each other.

Looking over his shoulder at Ron, he realized that his former roommate had definitely mellowed since his Hogwarts days. They had never been close, but now he felt a kind of kinship with him.

"You're alright there, mate?" Ron looked as tired as he felt himself.

He grunted in reply.

He knew that their rest would be short before it was time again and wanted to save his breath. Yet to his surprise, Kingsley suddenly announced that they were done for now and should all report back to Bill who had been put in charge of the camp's defenses.

The DA members all got back to their feet and dispersed. He was amazed that the name still stuck around even though it had begun as a joke on the Ministry. They had never truly been _Dumbledore's_ Army, but Harry's. Dumbledore had never had anything to do with them. Maybe they should call themselves Potter's Army, or PA for short? He smiled as he imagined how vigorously the old Harry would have protested the idea. He wasn't quite as sure about the _new_ Harry.

Casting a quick _tempus_ he realized that it was almost time for him to go on his second shift today, patrolling the forest. _Just what I need right now_ , he thought with a sigh.

As he made it back to the tents, he saw to his surprise a group of new arrivals with very familiar faces. It appeared that McGonagall's search for refugees had born fruit once again. The Creevey brothers were there and probably overjoyed to be close to Harry again. Yet as he came closer he saw that they didn't look happy at all. He wondered briefly at that.

Next he saw Penelope Clearwater. She looked absolutely miserable. He didn't know if it was because something had happened, or if it was merely due to the fact that she had ended up in the woods with the rest of them, far away from the comforts of civilization.

Finally he saw his grandmother and was overcome with relief. When she didn't return his owl he had begun to get seriously worried.

As he drew closer, she gave him a warm smile and a fierce hug. Wearing her famous vulture-hat, she hardly looked like she came prepared for life at camp. But her normally impeccable robes were now torn and dirty. He wagered that she hadn't ventured out in nature for at least half a century, much less while on the run. No matter how she was dressed, he was happy to see her.

He now saw that his grandmother's smile had already been exchanged for a frown as she regained her composure.

"I'm very pleased to see you, Neville", she said as she began to look him over. "But what on earth happened to your clothes? Why, you're all sweaty and… dirty", she finished disapprovingly. He sighed. He didn't really think she was in any position to complain about _his_ appearance. But hoping that she would ever change was clearly an exercise in futility.

"We've been dueling, Gran. Auror tactics", he explained slowly. At that her face lit up in a smile again. Anything he did that made him seem like he followed in his father's footsteps was a huge plus in her book. "That's wonderful, dear. But do go clean up now, just because you're wanted by the Ministry doesn't mean you should appear like a ruffian".

He rolled his eyes at that, belatedly hoping she hadn't caught it. In the corner of his eye he saw Hannah and Susan trying to hide their laughter from their place a few paces away, and he felt his cheeks heat up. _Well, it wasn't as if the Dowager Lady Longbottom was their Gran, now was it?_

After exchanging a few more words with his grandmother, he went to get ready to endure another hopefully uneventful patrol. While they went in pairs, they had made sure that there was always at least someone who could cast the _Patronus_ on each patrol. The threat of Dementors was quite real. The foul creatures were excellent hunters and it was anybody's guess why they hadn't made an appearance yet. Personally he was inclined to think it was a combination of both luck and Bill's Dementor-repelling wards; strong enough to confound the lone Dementor, but not enough if they came in force, Bill had explained.

On this patrol he had been paired with Cho who had never fully managed to cast the difficult spell, but she was working on it. They walked together in silence, trying their best to keep their eyes and ears open. It was easy enough to let your thoughts wander.

After about 20 minutes or so, she spoke up.

"What do you reckon Harry meant?"

He immediately understood that she was referring to the seemingly _crazy_ idea of hunting Death Eaters. He wasn't sure himself what it meant, but considered for a moment how to respond. He knew that she wasn't likely to voice her concerns to Harry directly; it was still a bit awkward between them, so he felt the responsibility to find a way to reassure her.

In the end he simply said, "I wouldn't underestimate Harry. He has done the incredible, and _insane_ , often enough that this shouldn't be beyond him either."

She nodded at that as she seemed to consider his words.

"But they are so many, and we so few", she continued after a while.

He could only agree, but it stood to reason that Harry was fully aware of this too and he told her as much. If he hadn't become suicidal all of a sudden, he surely had a plan. Not that there was necessarily a contradiction between the two in Harry's case, he smiled knowingly. At any rate they were supposed to reclaim this house on Grimmauld Place in London first, and after that anything could happen. They continued on in silence until it was time to head back. Tonight they would finalize the preparations and strike.

* * *

 **Blaise**

Blaise Zabini found himself in a strange situation he never imagined himself ending up in. He felt naked without his wand. As a prisoner, however well he was treated, he couldn't even go to the loo without someone looking over his shoulder. Fortunately for him, that someone was invariably male. He didn't relish the thought of taking care of his business in front of one of the witches. He figured it would put a damper on his many attempts to flirt with them.

But even when it came to flirting, he didn't really have his heart in it. It was just a way to pass the time. He had probably never been as bored as he had been for the past weeks. At least he had company, even though they didn't have much to say to one another.

He looked over at Draco and Theo, who sat not far from him, busily chatting about nothing in particular. Pansy and Millicent appeared to do the same in their corner of the tent, but he wasn't able to make out any of their words. As they all assumed, for good reason, that their conversations were anything but private, no one ever spoke of the war or any other matter pertaining to the Dark Lord or their families.

There were only the five of them in the tent. He knew that also Cameron Boyle, Shawn Morris, Graham Montague, Nerissa Brody and Tracey Nettlebed had all been singled out from among his housemates at Hog's Head Inn. He knew that all the others had Death Eater parents, but he wasn't quite sure why _he_ was here, wherever here was. It's not like his mother was branded with the mark. In fact, she would have laughed uproariously if anyone had suggested it to her. No, he considered the possibility that he was here only due to his mother's somewhat unflattering reputation. Rumors had it she had killed all of her five husbands, but while true, it was quite a bit more complicated than that. _Try explaining nuance to a bunch of Gryffindors_ , he sighed in frustration.

He heard the tent door open and looked up as the leader of said Gyffindors stepped inside. No one had ever said it outright, but from the way they sometimes spoke and interacted with each other, it was clear that they all followed Potter's lead. He had grown during the past year, Blaise noticed, now standing at 5' 10". Still not tall, but not quite as short as he used to be. If anyone had asked him a year ago if the Gryffindor Golden Boy would find himself leading a rebellion against the Ministry, he would have fetched Madame Pomfrey in a heartbeat, to check for mind-altering potions or spells. Yet here they all were, and here was Potter.

Potter seemed tired, but otherwise well. He smiled at them with his trademark lopsided half-smile as he came to stand before them. He looked friendly enough, but you always had to watch the eyes, Blaise's mother had told him. People might lie until they were blue in their faces, but their eyes never lied. And Potter's green eyes were cold as a winter day, and calculating.

"Good evening to you, distinguished guests", Potter said with faux cheer. He clearly suffered no delusions that they didn't all understand perfectly well where they stood in relation to one another. It was hardly his first visit.

"I bring good news," he continued in that annoyingly cheerful voice. "Good old Tom Riddle has raised the already substantial bounty on my head to a 100,000 Galleons."

Blaise wasn't sure why that was good news or who on earth this Riddle guy was, so he replied sarcastically, "Why Potter, I'm almost attempted to turn you in".

Surprisingly enough, he received a quick smile in return.

"Of that I have no doubt", Potter responded as he seemed to study Blaise for a moment.

"It's good news for you, because it means that your families have a lot of cash to spare. We all know where that money would come from, yes? While I don't know for sure, there's a distinct possibility that your families might want you back, _Merlin alone knows why_ , so all I'm saying is that it's fortunate that they have money. With luck, we may all depart ways shortly."

Potter's unusually longwinded little speech took Blaise by surprise. He wasn't used to this kind of talk coming from him and he wasn't sure what he was getting at. What was the point of all of this?

He didn't need to wonder for long, as Potter spoke up again.

"Now to the reason I'm telling you all this. You see, while I suppose it's easy enough to reach your families, I thought that maybe we can come up with something a bit more… let's call it, _discreet_."

Blaise knew what he meant. It would likely not be viewed favorably by the Dark Lord if his followers handed over large sums of money to Potter, even if they got their sons and daughters in return. At the same time, few things were as important to these families as getting their heirs back. Without them well and alive, some really old Wizarding families might well die out. He looked around and was willing to wager that similar thoughts were running through the heads of his fellow prisoners.

"What do you have in mind?" Pansy finally asked him. As a woman with a younger brother, she wasn't the heir and he thought he could detect a hint of nervousness about her, that perhaps she wasn't sure if her family was willing to go behind the Dark Lord's back for her sake.

Harry seemed to consider it for a moment, before he said, "Well, I think we should discuss this privately, wouldn't you all agree?"

Blaise wished Potter would stop sounding so cheerful already. It grated on his nerves, which was probably the point in the first place. He hastily retreated behind his occlumency shields in order to control his emotions.

Suddenly Potter had his wand out and quickly began to cast silent stunners. He had but a moment's notice before he saw the wand point towards him and all went black.

Groggily he woke up, but had no idea for how long he'd been out. The others were all gone and as he sat there alone, he felt Potter's eyes bore into his.

"It seems you're the last one, Zabini", Potter told him calmly but with a hint of steel in his voice. There was no trace of the former smile on his face.

He smiled back cheekily. "You're an interesting one, Potter. Never imagined you had it in you."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Potter's face. Maybe the others had immediately spilled and Potter was expecting similar results with him. He didn't much fancy the idea of being the only one left in this tent. And maybe this is exactly what Potter wanted him to believe in order to get him to talk, a small voice inside him warned. He felt confused and unsure of himself all of a sudden, and he found that he didn't like it.

Either Potter was much sneakier than he had ever given him credit for, or he himself was making this entire thing up in his own mind; reading things into the situation that Potter perhaps hadn't even considered. _Damn_.

He tried to shake off the fog from his head and finally settling on a course of action, he spoke again.

"First of all, as I've told you many times already, you should know that my mother has never followed the Dark Lord." He thought he could see a trace of doubt on Potter's face, but he appeared to consider it at least.

"I'm aware of your hatred for all things Slytherin", he continued. "But we're not all wannabe Death Eaters, you know, nor are we all that wealthy."

Potter actually smiled briefly at that. He had no idea why. What was wrong with what he just said?

"Be that as it may, Zabini," came the reply.

"It _is_ that way." He needed to play this out and see where it led.

"You're remarkably well-informed about my… thoughts and feelings," Potter said, and once again he saw that brief flicker of a smile. He really wanted Potter to leave so that he could run this conversation over again in his head. There was something there that he needed to pay attention to.

"So how should I best contact your dear mother? She needs to be able to trust that the message is in fact authentic, don't you think? And do give me a hint of how much you might be worth to her."

Suddenly it dawned on him what Potter might be attempting. If he gave him what he wanted, Potter would then be able to pass on _any_ kind of message and his mother would be unable to ignore it, no matter how suspicious she'd be. Yet, the alternative was to remain stuck here for Merlin knew how long and hope they'd be rescued soon.

If he hadn't been at Potter's mercy, he would almost have applauded him. The stupid speech about the bounty was just to get them thinking along the lines of money. The stunners not only provided privacy, but made them all groggy and unable to think straight. While not overly complicated or sophisticated, it _was_ unexpected coming from Potter and cleverly played on their emotions.

He wondered briefly if the others too had seen through the ruse, or had they been blinded by their desire to get out of here? Would their families be equally blinded by their desire to get them back? Since they were already gone, he assumed they would be kept apart from now on. Even if he wanted to, and he wasn't sure he actually did, he could no longer warn them.

He calmed himself down a little, and looked at Potter with a measure of newfound respect. He would do well to remember not to underestimate him. They all assumed they had figured him out a long time ago. With a chill he recalled the old saying, 'By way of deception, thou shalt do war'. Potter too was playing _the game_.

* * *

 **Harry**

Harry departed the tent feeling quite satisfied. He hadn't got all he wanted, but he was making progress.

Zabini was interesting, no doubt about it. He could tell he was intelligent and knew that it wouldn't be easy to get anything of use out of him. He wasn't even sure why Zabini had been singled out to come with them in the first place. He was aware of the reputation of the Zabinis, of course, but despite not knowing him all that well, he never did strike him as a typical follower of Tom's. He wondered how he'd be able to use that. Would the Zabinis consider an alliance? Probably not, he reckoned. He was still playing a very weak hand, and whatever deal may be reached as long as Zabini was a prisoner wouldn't last for long. Well, unless he came up with ways to make the agreement binding.

He turned his thoughts to the others. Parkinson had done what he wanted. There wasn't much subtlety in her. He supposed she had been sorted into Slytherin more because the other houses were even worse fits, than due to any innate cunning.

Bulstrode too had given him everything he needed. But in her case it seemed like she didn't even care. He thought for a moment that she had him figured out, but she had nevertheless played along quite nicely.

Nott had surprised him however. It seemed that he didn't see eye to eye with his father on a whole lot of issues, or so he claimed. He filed that piece of information away for future use.

And finally there was Malfoy, who had been subdued since the first day he saw him in the tent. Not at all like his usual blustering self. He seemed the least eager to leave, for some reason. Oddly enough he even got the feeling that Malfoy almost despised his father, however difficult that was to believe, while he clearly cared for his mother. That was indeed strange. He couldn't remember a single instance during his six years at Hogwarts where Malfoy had talked about his mother. It was always his father this, his father that. He wondered what might have happened.

He knew he needed to dig deeper with all of them, but he also knew full well that he couldn't take any of what they told him at face value. As much as he didn't see it at times, there had been a reason they were Slytherins and they had played these kinds of games a lot longer than he had. It was truly a shame he didn't have any _veritaserum_ at hand.

An hour later Harry found himself back under the tutelage of the former dueling champion. While they would normally focus on speed, balance and spell-chains, today he was also learning a very difficult, yet effective shield. He concentrated on the wand movement and cast it again, " _CUNEUS!_ "

Flitwick had him practice varying the amount of power he put into the wedge-shaped shield, and now it was perhaps wide enough to cover about five people, assuming they stood shoulder to shoulder. It was perhaps half the size of the widest shield he had attempted, and that had been bloody hard.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Now let me see you cast it larger again", Flitwick urged him. He released his shield with a sigh and after a moment cast it again, putting a lot more power in it this time.

He counted himself fortunate that he could learn from the experienced Professor. It never occurred to him during his time at Hogwarts to approach Flitwick, but now that his eyes had opened to the possibilities of such a mentorship, he wished he had done so sooner. Reluctantly he lowered his wand and turned to the professor.

"I truly appreciate your help", he began. At Flitwick's graceful nod he continued, "But I have something I need you to do, should you agree to help."

"It's Gringotts, Mr. Potter, isn't it?" Flitwick was of course right in one. He had got used to the professor's uncanny ability to piece information together.

He nodded. "With your connections you're my best hope of resolving this… _misunderstanding_."

Flitwick looked a bit apprehensive all of a sudden, but gave him a weak smile.

He wondered if the professor wasn't on as good terms with Gringotts as he had assumed. Well, at least he had agreed.

He quickly filled him in on the message he wished to convey to the Goblins. It was simple enough. He offered to enter negotiations on reparations for the damage caused, as well as explaining the reasons for the break-in. With Flitwick as his liaison he hoped they would take it seriously and not do anything… rash. He couldn't afford to fight the Goblins as well, and money would soon be in short supply if he couldn't access his vault.

Since there was no time to waste, Flitwick left immediately. He needed to be back in time for Grimmauld Place as he had an important task there as well. It was nothing less than amazing how much he had come to rely on the unassuming part-goblin in such a short time.

He made his way back to camp in order to get ready for tonight's events. They would strike at midnight, and if the Death Eaters had left guards after Yaxley managed to follow them there, they would deal with them too. He expected some resistance, but he hoped there wouldn't be too many of them or he might be forced to fall back again. Worry fleeted through his mind at the thought of the hit morale would take if that happened. He resolved not to fail. He just couldn't afford to.

* * *

A few hours later all was ready and Harry made the rounds for the final inspection. It was an awful night for battle. The rain had started hours ago and he had almost been inclined to postpone the whole thing, yet in the last hour or so the rain subsided somewhat. There was however still a chill to the air.

The strike team, as they taken to call themselves, consisted of the heavy hitters. They were Remus, Kingsley, Tonks and himself. As veterans of the Order of the Phoenix, including two former aurors, they were not afraid to see battle, yet as true veterans they were neither overly eager. They had a job to do and would do what was necessary.

Harry smiled at them, but knew they needed little encouragement. By contrast, the former DA members, who had formed support units for their expedition, looked nervous. He understood, he was nervous too, but for other reasons. Forced smiles and shifting feet greeted him as he made his way over.

On this occasion they decided to forego their regular robes and wore something more comfortable instead. As a result there was an assortment of different clothes; jeans, sweaters and hoodies. As long as they stuck to dark colors he was fine with it.

They were sorted into groups of three, with Ron, Susan and Neville each put in charge of a group. This was a first for everyone involved, and Ron looked like he was about to puke. Dean and Hermione were in his group, with the latter surprisingly enough making little fuss about not leading her own group. That had been a purely tactical decision. He wanted her available to give first aid. He didn't bother adding that she really wasn't a fighter. Harry had no intention of going in to throw some stunners and disarming charms, and in their drills she had been a bit… squeamish about the more lethal spells, however small their repertoire was. Ron had on the other hand shown a surprising aptitude for bone-breakers and cutting curses. He had taken to them with a vigor that was inspiring the others. He had also been instrumental in planning the strike.

Susan on the other hand looked resigned as she stood in quiet conversation with Seamus and Hannah. She had been an obvious choice as squad leader. The Bones family had always been prominent aurors and he could see that Susan had it in her. She was quick on the uptake and surprisingly good at enforcing discipline. _Probably got it from her aunt_ , he mused.

The last group was led by Neville. There was a look of determination in his eyes. He knew there was a chance Bellatrix would be there tonight, as it was the home of the Blacks. And where Bellatrix went, so did the Lestrange brothers. With him stood Michael Corner and Ernie Macmillan, each of them waiting quietly.

He recalled how Ginny had been upset when she was told she couldn't go. As she hadn't turned 17 yet, Harry didn't want to fight her parents over it, despite her pleas for him to intervene. She wasn't the only one who stayed behind though. The camp still needed able wands and if he brought everyone who wanted to come, they risked tripping over each other instead of being useful. In the end he had been forced to put his foot down and end all the arguments.

There was also a fourth team, but with a special assignment. Led by Bill, they were among other things supposed to erect anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards around the street to prevent anyone from escaping and possible aid from reaching the Death Eaters. Fred, George and Lee all agreed to be on this team, knowing full well that theirs was the most dangerous task of those who would remain outside. They had to assume that if there was a Death Eater in place, the distress call would immediately go out to Voldemort. After that it was a flip of the coin if the Dark Lord would show up himself or hopefully only send a team of Death Eaters. Harry counted on the former, as the Dark Lord likely felt it was beneath him to respond directly to such an insignificant threat, especially if he didn't realize Harry was there. The first ones to bear the brunt of the counter-attack, if it came, would be Bill's team. The ward-breaker had some tricks up his sleeves, Harry knew, but it would undoubtedly be dangerous.

The last one to go with them was Flitwick. Harry needed him fresh for after the battle however. Even though he was their most proficient dueler, he would only intervene if things started to really head south.

Seeing that everyone was ready, he cleared his throat. He was not a speaker and never had been, but Hermione had pestered him about it and even helped him prepare a few words, although he decided to depart from them here and there.

He felt all eyes on him. He was their leader, as much as it still surprised both the adults and himself. The former DA members however took it in stride. No one else had ever led them in anything and they didn't even know most of the adults. But they _trusted_ Harry. Trusted that he would see them through this; that his uncanny ability to come out on top against the odds would somehow transfer to them if they followed him. He prayed they were right.

"You all know why we're here," he began in a steady voice and paused. "Tonight, we make our first strike against the enemy!" At that he received a few nods, but no one said anything as they clearly waited for him to continue.

"Many of us were but schoolchildren, forced to stand on the sidelines, as war once again erupted in our world. Others saw the decay from within and took a stand for what is right, but were unable to fight this war alone." He gave a quick nod to the former members of the Order.

"Then all of us were forced to watch as the Ministry floundered helplessly, and _failed miserably_ I might add, to even recognize the situation for what it was. In fear, they buried their heads in the sand and lashed out against any who dared to speak the truth." More nods. They knew too well of what he spoke.

"The adults of our world _failed us_ when many of us had just been born. _Failed_ to right the wrongs of our society during the era of peace that followed the attack on my family. And _failed_ , yet again, to counter the threat posed by a resurrected Dark Lord, even as he was still weak." He paused again, knowing that he had them now as they drank in his words.

"Many of us, if not all, have seen friends and family fall to the enemy and we carry them with us in our hearts, every day." Susan and Tonks teared up at that, while Neville's face grew even grimmer. For the women, their losses were still raw, he knew, whereas for Neville all that remained was a desire to avenge his parents and his own lost childhood. Remus too gave him a sad look.

"Some of us escaped from danger within an inch of our very lives. Some of us have been tortured, or witnessed our friends be tortured."

He had spoken in a clear but calm manner up until this point, but now he allowed the anger he carried, that was ever present, to seep into his voice.

"Up until now, we've been on the run… _hiding… waiting_. Waiting for an opportunity to show that we're not _sheep_ , who willingly go to their slaughter! That time has now arrived!

Make no mistake, what we are about to do tonight will not end the war. This is a new beginning, not the end. There are many battles yet to come.

But tonight we are taking the first step towards fighting back!

We will _not_ challenge them to duels, yet duel them we must. We will _not_ seek them out to face them in open battle, although battle will surely come. Most importantly, we will _not_ meet them head on unless _we_ have chosen the time and place. Listen to me carefully, for we will now turn the table on them. By the time we're done with them, _they_ will have learned fear. Now it is _our_ turn to strike from the shadows!"

He roared the last part and to his surprise they cheered loudly. He suffered from no delusions of being an accomplished orator, but judging by the overwhelming response he must have managed to hit the right buttons.

The adults hadn't joined the cheering however, but his honorary uncle gave him a nod and looked at him with evident approval. Kingsley gave him two thumbs up while Tonks threw him a kiss. Flitwick simply watched him, and all his former students, with pride shining in his eyes.

After Hermione applied a few glamours on him all was ready and he gave the order.

* * *

Grimmauld Place was quiet at this time of night. The streetlights gave off only a dim light and the houses looked as grimy as he remembered them. Harry had apparated alone, with his cloak on, and stood on the very same small square that he had landed on the first time he was taken to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoneix a few years ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then.

He looked around but didn't see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. The streets were empty and all but a few windows were dark. He pulled out Dumbledore's old Deluminator that Ron had lent him and after a number of clicks turned the entire street pitch black. After taking a moment to adjust to the darkness, he quickly sent a message to Bill.

A few moments later he heard the pops of Bill's team. Without seeing him, they split into pairs and quickly began to move out. He would give them a few minutes before he called on the rest of the teams.

He waited in silence. All kinds of feelings, of nervousness and excitement, perhaps mixed with a touch of fear, threatened to appear as he stood there waiting. He had discussed what he felt as he went into battle extensively with Flitwick, who had only reaffirmed what Harry had begun to understand himself. He needed to be in control of his emotions or otherwise risk letting them control him. He focused hard on emptying his mind of all thought; all emotion. He felt his quick pulse slow down until he was as calm as a millpond.

Without knowing how, he felt that the time was right. He sent off another quick message through his coin. _Come_ , was all it said.

A few moments later he heard pops all around him. Absently he noted that some were barely audible even on this still and quiet night, while others were markedly louder. By the number of pops he had heard, he believed that all squads had arrived. He could make out Remus, Tonks and Kingsley next to him, only a couple of yards away. He pulled out his wand from underneath his cloak and let the tip glow faintly. In response he saw first to his left how another wand begin to glow as well, followed by another to the right and then another.

 _Good._ He knew it meant that they were all assembled and accounted for.

He raised his wand above his head and immediately saw the how the groups began to spread out. The rest of the strike team waited patiently. He knew they felt unease with him giving the orders, but if all went well tonight it would go a long way to assuage their concerns. They knew he was central to all their efforts and he had made clear that he was done taking orders. They had little choice, as it were.

He could faintly make out the groups taking their positions at different places on the street corners. After a moment he saw them no more. They had practiced the disillusionment charm under Flitwick's guidance and most could now perform it to some degree. They should be well hidden for now, or at least until they forced to move. None of them could maintain it well while on the move, but it was good enough for what they needed tonight. He removed his cloak and motioned to the others to begin their approach to number Twelve.

Wasting no time, he joined them as they quietly approached the front door; Flitwick not far behind them, Harry knew, yet still under his own disillusionment charm. He would wait in the doorway.

Remus skipped ahead and stood at the battered door that had just appeared in front of them. He waved his wand in intricate patterns. They didn't expect much in terms of protective wards now that the house had fallen into disrepair, but they had to make sure the Death Eaters hadn't put up any nasty surprises. After a few moments he signaled to them that it was all clear.

A simple tap of the wand was enough to open the door; something that would have horrified the Blacks of old who doubtlessly would have been quite unsympathetic to their mission here tonight, Harry thought. As always he felt a chill emanate from the dark abode that was Sirius' childhood home. They cautiously moved up the worn stone steps and into the darkness inside.

The past year had done little change the damp and rotting smell from within. Not even Mrs. Weasley's cleaning efforts had made much of a difference. There was neither light nor sound coming from within the house. They continued their way in cautiously, wands out and at the ready.

A gong went off, seemingly out of nowhere; filling the house with an unnaturally loud noise. Further in he heard Walburga Black's screams fill the hair, as the old hag had been disturbed from her slumber. _Damn!_

He didn't know what had triggered it, but it must have a clever piece of warding. So faint it wouldn't have been detected unless they knew exactly what to look for. It wasn't all that unexpected, but they decided early on that there was little they could do about it but continue on until their presence was revealed.

While the gong had gone silent, Walburga's screams still filled the house as they quickly rushed in. As he passed by the horrid woman's painting an impulse made him hiss at it in Parseltongue. _"Shut up, you old hag!"_

To his surprise she fell silent and he could make out a shocked look on her face. He had no time to consider it as red and yellow spells lit up the hallway before they bounced off from Kingsley's and Tonk's hastily conjured shields. It had begun.

With the former aurors maintaining shields in front of them and Remus and Harry casting spells blindly into the room while maintaining a readiness to conjure or levitate any physical barrier in front of them in case the enemy used unforgivables, they pushed forward with haste. They could not afford to be bogged down in the hallway.

The enemy spells kept coming and they smashed into the shields, but soon they reached the large dining room. With a flick of his wand, Harry turned the old gas-lamps on and as the room lit up he could make out three enemies on the other side of the room, still casting spells but now with a look of surprise on their faces. He didn't recognize any of them.

They quickly spread out and started to return fire. The dark wizards were now forced on the defensive as they were outnumbered and by the looks of it, out-skilled. Harry dodged a bone-breaker sent his way, and returned one of his own that smashed into a hastily conjured shield. He didn't put all that much energy into the spells in order to gain time to study his opponents, as Flitwick had tried to tell him over and over again was a smarter way to fight.

One opponent went down with a scream and a spray of blood as his wand arm was cut off at the elbow. Tonks' triumphant grin told him who had cast that spell. Meanwhile, Remus narrowly escaped being hit by a _killing curse_ as he dove down on the floor.

" _Serpensortia!"_ Harry whispered quietly and three cobras appeared before him, waiting for his command. He quickly hissed at them to attack.

Fear filled the eyes of the two remaining enemies as the cobras quickly began to slither their way across the room. They didn't make it far before a burst of fire from his left turned them to ashes. Harry looked up and saw another wizard appear in the doorway on the left side of the room. His dark mark was clearly visible on his bare arm, yet it was the face that brought Harry pause. _Rabastan Lestrange_. And if he was here, perhaps his brother and Bellatrix were too. He yearned for the chance to cross wands with her; that is unless Neville got to her first.

He let off a string of spells against the newcomer, who was forced to duck back behind the wall he had emerged from. Over his shoulder Harry saw Kingsley hit one of the remaining men with an immobilizing spell, quickly followed by a stunner and a disarming charm. The wand flew across the room and Kingsley quickly caught it before he was saved by Remus' shield against a sickly yellow curse cast by the remaining man. Tonks immediately returned spells of her own that forced the other man on the defensive yet again.

The distraction almost proved to be Harry's downfall as he barely saw the approaching familiar green light in the corner of his eye. He managed to duck and saw the curse slam into the wall behind him.

As the last enemy inside the room fell to the combined efforts of Tonks, Kingsley and Remus, he saw Rabastan make a run for it and soon heard him disappear up the stairs.

After a moment of quiet and making sure everyone was alright, Harry made a quick decision. "Kingsley, on me! Tonks, Remus – secure this room and the prisoners and start searching the house!" After a moment he added, "And do get Flitwick too. He'll be needed soon enough."

He then turned around and made his way to follow Rabastan, with Kingsley fast on his heels. As they reached the door he motioned to Kingsley to stop. He knew that Rabastan had gone all the way up the stairs and in all likelihood left the house, but he didn't want to charge in like a Gryffindor in case that's just what the Death Eater wanted him to believe. He peeked out the door and seeing that the coast was clear, he made his way to the stairs in the other room. Once there he paused again and quietly cast silencing charms on his feet. He nodded when he saw Kingsley do the same.

They carefully began to climb the stairs.

Shortly thereafter they could hear the sound of a window open. Faint explosions could be heard outside. They allowed themselves to walk a bit faster and soon reached the top of the stairs. The corridor they were now in was familiar to Harry as it led to Sirius' and Regulus' old rooms. He saw that the door to his godfather's room stood wide open, and they quietly made it across the dark corridor. Starlight lit up Sirius' room and as they made it inside, they saw the window wide open. _Rabastan must have escaped_ , Harry thought disappointedly, but it was more or less what he expected.

What caught his attention as he reached the window, were the now loud explosions he heard and the flares of light that lit up the dark street below. The battle had now moved to the street.

* * *

As much as Harry wanted to go outside to help, he needed to wait just a bit longer. Kingsley, Tonks and Remus had gone out to help and that had to be enough for now. He paced back and forth in the dining room as he watched impatiently as Flitwick readied himself for one the most taxing charms known to the Wizarding world; the _Fidelius_.

The charm was the reason he had kept Flitwick out of the battle. Apparently very few wizards could cast it and he hadn't been sure about Flitwick, but his former professor had assured him that it would work. _Probably_.

But for him to have a chance, he needed to be in peak condition.

He saw the small man steel himself and began the incantation as he moved his wand in an unfamiliar pattern and finally pointing to Harry. _"FIDELIUS OCCULTUM!"_

Harry found it hard to describe the feeling as the spell settled on him. He knew where he was, but he could _feel_ how the information was sealed within him, shielded and protected from the world. He knew without doubt that he was the only living person who knew the secret of the existence of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

He saw Flitwick slump on the floor. The spell must have taken every ounce of power the professor had as the house after all wasn't small. He made his way over and whispered the secret into Flitwick's ear. The look of confusion left the professor, but he was still clearly exhausted.

Knowing that Flitwick would be alright; safer here than almost anywhere else in fact, Harry quickly began to run to the front door.

As he threw the door open, he could see the battle raging on. His friends were all surrounded as it seemed that the Death Eaters had come in force. About two dozen, a quick scan told him. Rage overcame him as he saw Hermione go down by a spell he didn't recognize.

He put all his power into a blasting curse and momentarily forgot to cast silently as he roared, "CONFRINGO!"

The spell flew against a small group of hooded Death Eaters who had engaged Ron's group with astonishing speed. One of them must have had a sixth sense as he managed to conjure a shield despite of the surprise attack. In the end it didn't matter. The powerful curse tore through his shield like a hot knife through butter, and blasted the Death Eater to pieces. Blood and flesh splattered on the street. Two of his companions were thrown away by the explosion and lay still on the ground. _Unconscious_ , Harry guessed as he leaned exhaustedly against the doorframe. He was shocked at the result. Not only at the powerful curse he had unleashed, but at the speed with which the curse flew. He could see that he wasn't the only one who was shocked as the battle seemed to falter momentarily. As he was still technically in the _Fidelius_ -protected house, the others couldn't have known where the spell came from.

Gathering his remaining strength he made his way down the stone steps and as the battle resumed again with full force, he saw Seamus fall to a spell, while Susan narrowly dodged the _Cruciatus_ curse. Her return spell must have pulverized the bones in the Death Eater's leg and as he fell it ended up in a decidedly twisted angle. Ron, who fought next to Dean and the fallen Hermione across the street, placed a well-aimed cutting curse on a Death Eater that hit the man's wand arm. He howled in pain.

Despite that, things looked bad. He saw Fred and George carry an unconscious Bill while Lee shielded them to the best of his ability. Tonks and Remus fought back to back against five opponents and from the looks of it barely managed to stay alive. Kingsley was groaning as he lay bleeding not far away from them.

He couldn't see Neville or his group at all and fervently hoped they were still alive.

Harry ran across the street and reached Susan just as a blasting curse exploded with a deafening sound against her shield. The shield held, but barely. He could see that Susan was tiring, and Hannah was bleeding from her shoulder as she tried to tend to the unconscious Seamus. He quickly whispered the secret into the surprised Susan's ear before he moved away and repeated the process with Hannah. He was forced to shield against an incoming spell; not daring to dodge, as he motioned to the girls to take Seamus to the house. They nodded in response.

He turned around and sent another blasting curse against a Death Eater whose spells kept pounding on Lee's shield. The Death Eater managed to get a shield up and this time his spell exploded against it, yet didn't break through. It had bought them a moment and he hurriedly whispered the secret to them as soon as he reached them. After only a moment they continued carrying Bill with them to their new destination.

As he turned around he saw a bone-breaker from Ron smash into the shield of another Death Eater. The shield held barely, but couldn't stop Dean's follow-up cutting-curse which took the man's head off. All eyes were transfixed on the head which rolled away on the increasingly bloody street. As Ron threw up another shield to protect them, Dean bent over and threw up the contents of his stomach.

Before he could make his way over to them, he finally saw Neville. With Michael and Ernie on his side he fought against an equal number of Death Eaters, with one of them being Rabastan. One of the others cackled loud enough that he could hear it even from where he stood, perhaps 60 yards away from them. _Bellatrix had come!_

He began to sprint across the street, almost oblivious to the spells that flew around him. He wasn't even half-way there as he saw Michael falling with a scream. Ernie and Neville were now hard-pressed and didn't manage to do much but protect themselves to the best of their abilities. While Ernie managed to dodge a few evil-looking spells, Neville was suddenly howling in pain as Bellatrix' mad laughter once more filled the air.

"Just a while longer little Longbottom, and you can soon be reunited with your parents at St. Mungos!" She laughed, but was cut short as Ernie sent a weak spell her way. It didn't do much, but at least it had broken the _Cruciatus_ that had held Neville.

Harry ran even faster, he knew that if he didn't reach them soon it would soon be over. He was almost there when he felt his heart tear apart inside his chest. Bellatrix who had now turned her attention to Ernie waited until he was busy shielding before she struck. Just a moment after he heard the chilling words of the horrid curse, he saw a flash of green light hit Ernie straight in the chest. The young Hufflepuff fell lifeless to the ground. For Harry time seemed to stop. He thought he heard a scream; someone was furiously screaming the name of the hated witch, and then he realized it was his own voice.

All determination to control his emotions vanished in a heartbeat and with another roar he almost flew across the street. Suddenly he was upon her and with all thought gone, he rained spells down on her and the other two Death Eaters with a vengeance. He didn't even bother shielding, not having a care in the world beyond hurting _her_. Despite being three against one, he forced them to defend against his relentless onslaught. Whatever spell they managed to cast his way he danced around instinctively, just as Flitwick had taught him.

With rage at the boiling-point, he hit Rabastan with _Sectumsempra_ and saw the spell cut a huge gash on his arm. He barely noticed him falling and crawling away. He cast a bone-breaker that Bellatrix intercepted with a shield. He followed-up without pause with a blasting curse against the other Death Eater next to Bellatrix, who flew across the street despite his shield. The clearly shaken and possibly injured Death Eater began to crawl away.

It was only him against Bellatrix right now. He was forced to dodge her rapid curses as she had recovered from the surprise of his attack, but he didn't manage to find any weakness in her defenses. The spells kept flying through the air, but neither had yet caused any harm to the other.

"Potter has learned how to play", Bellatrix taunted him through gritted teeth. She did rather look like she was enjoying this. He did his best to force his anger back and slowly began to rein in his emotions. As the duel raged on, he saw that despite her quickness and versatile arsenal, her spells seemed to follow a distinct pattern. A cutting-curse, followed by a disintegration curse, and then a couple of curses he didn't recognize, followed by a bone-breaker. After that she either started over, or tried an unforgivable. He felt rather sure that was the pattern. And then he saw why, each of the curses seemed to follow naturally upon the other, with each curse's wand movement ending where the next started. _This is part of why she is so damn fast_ , he realized.

He dodged another _Cruciatus_ and thought he had found a weakness. There was a reason even the Death Eaters didn't throw around unforgivables all the time. They took more power to cast, but were also a bit slower. Each time she cast one she seemed to pause for just an extra second.

They kept trading spells and a cutting curse came fast than he had expected and hit his side. He felt his knees buckle momentarily, but pushed the pain away. He dodged her follow-ups and just as she finished casting the bone-breaker he saw his chance.

As fast as he could he struck with a powerful _Expulso_ and the spell flung her at least 10 yards across the street. It was the first spell he had ever landed on her and it felt incredibly satisfying to see her unconscious form lying on the wet street. He was about to follow her when he heard someone scream, "Harry!"

He turned around and saw Dean fall, whether to a spell or in exhaustion he couldn't tell, and knew that it was Ron who had called for him. With deep regret he turned away from Bellatrix and rejoined the battle. Remus and Tonks were still fighting, both sporting bloody wounds, but were now faced with only three opponents. Two Death Eaters lay unconscious on the ground around them.

He turned around and saw Ron frantically shielding and dodging against his two opponents. Even at this distance Harry managed to hit one of them with a bone-breaker in his right leg. He crumpled to the ground with a scream as his leg gave way.

The other Death Eater gave him a fearful look and began to run away as fast as he could. Harry sent a couple of blasting curses after him, but both struck small craters in the street. Fighting off his tiredness, he saw that only he, Ron, Remus and Tonks were still standing on their side. A few more were down, he knew, but he hoped that the others had managed to reach the house safely.

Just as he was about to throw curses after the remaining Death Eaters who were still fighting, they turned tail and ran. He should have tried to hit them, he knew, but he couldn't muster the energy. He was well and truly spent.

Before he turned his attention to the wounded, he looked around and saw that Bellatrix had regained consciousness. He didn't have time to stop her before she portkeyed away together with the wounded Death Eaters who must have been linked to her somehow. He didn't have the energy to wonder what happened to Bill's anti-portkey ward. As disappointment filled him, he fell down exhausted on the street. He barely noticed that Flitwick and a few of the others had rejoined them. The battle was over. They had won, but at a steep price. He knew they had killed a few and wounded more than a dozen Death Eaters. He hoped their own wounded would be alright. Then he remembered Ernie and the willpower that had kept him going disappeared, as grief took him.

END OF CHAPTER 5

* * *

 **Author's note:**

Regarding Cho's inability to cast the Patronus properly. I've always found it annoying that Harry struggled so much with this charm, which was always deemed a difficult feat even for adults. But suddenly he manages to teach the spell to pretty much the entire DA in no time. Granted, Harry was only a third year when he learned it, but the whole thing still rubs me the wrong way. While it may be somewhat hypocritical of me to 'take away' this skill from several of the former DA members, as I have no problem making Harry (and others) quite powerful, it's nevertheless what I decided to do.

 **Fidelius Occultum:** In Canon we never learn the incantation for this spell, but I borrowed this from an excellent fic called "Dodging Prison and Stealing Witches - Revenge is Best Served Raw" by LeadVonE. As it is one of the most popular fics on the site, I imagine you're already following it.

Also, thank you for all the kind reviews. They really do make it easier to keep writing. Constructive criticism is also much appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

" _Those who by valorous ways become princes ... acquire a principality with difficulty ... The difficulties they have in acquiring it arise in part from the new rules and methods which they are forced to introduce to establish their government and its security… Because the innovator has for enemies all those who have done well under the old conditions, and lukewarm defenders in those who may do well under the new."_

Machiavelli, The Prince

 _ **Quick recap due to my long absence – feel free to skip**_

 _Story begins just before Canon's Battle of Hogwarts. Harry convinces the remaining professors at Hogwarts to flee and fight another day rather than battle Voldemort's approaching forces. While some Professors erect defenses, the evacuation takes place. Meanwhile, Harry, Hermione, Ron and others search for the last remaining Horcrux while seeking to dispose of Hufflepuff's Cup that they brought with them._

 _Harry figures out that Ravenclaw's Diadem is hidden in the RoR but once there, he is forced to battle Crabbe and Goyle. He narrowly escapes Fiendfyre, with both Crabbe and Goyle dead._

 _Ron and Hermione enter the Chamber of Secrets where they destroy the Cup. Harry meets them and with their mission accomplished, he leaves to tell the professors that the time has come for all of them to leave and to find Luna and Hagrid who he with the help of the Map knew were at Hagrid's Hut. He finds the professors and suits of armor battling Voldemort's large forces and seeing McGonagall hit by a curse, he jumps into the fight to save her. With the help of Flitwick they make their escape, but once inside the castle, he puts on his Cloak and heads out to find Luna and Hagrid. Seeing Hagrid's Hut burnt down, he enters the Forbidden Forest in pursuit._

 _Inside the Forest he encounters Death Eaters and unable to hide, he fights them. Being unable to dodge properly due to his injured leg, he only avoids defeat by being saved by Centaurs, while the enemies are killed. He apparates to the Forest of Dean where the others have made camp, holding several Slytherin students captive._

 _In camp they train and make plans. In the attempt to retake 12 Grimmauld Place, they are met with more resistance than expected due to Rabastan fleeing and sounding the alarm. In the ensuing battle, some Death Eaters are captured and killed, while others flee. Bellatrix is defeated by Harry, but not before she kills Ernie Macmillan. She and other Death Eaters manage to escape. In the end the Black house is taken and put under the Fidelius Charm, with Harry as secret keeper._

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

 **Narcissa**

The summer light bathed the Mansion in its warmth. The large windows did little to keep the sunlight out, yet thin curtains hung from the ceiling and filtered some of it out. Still, enough light made it way inside and warmed the marble floors. In a different time, almost a different life, Narcissa would have basked in the splendor of the Mansion on such a glorious day. She would have planned luncheons with other upstanding women; to relieve her boredom by idle gossip, to further her family's standing by setting plans in motion to bring her rivals down a peg, but also to savor the ever-present looks of envy on their faces as the house-elves served delicious food, paired with the very best vintages from the Malfoy vineyards in southern France. They would all exclaim in delight as she took them for a leisurely stroll throughout the gardens and the orchard, with its flowers, cherry trees and purling fountains. Marble statues lined the main passage through the gardens, depicting ancestors from before the Muggle King William the Conqueror with whom the Malfoys had fought and made England their home. Now she stood there alone; as a pale ghost she roamed the quiet halls.

Beyond the gardens stood a largely abandoned Quidditch Pitch where Draco had learned to fly as a child. It had been one of Lucius' more soft-hearted moments, where he was happy with his rise to prominence as it looked like he would manage to gain the new Minister's ear and confidence. Salvaging the Malfoy name after the first war had been a long and difficult task, which demanded a lot of time and resources, but Lucius had been determined and it looked like all his efforts had finally paid off.

Draco had only been 9 years old and had received a brand new broom. The happiness on his face had been unmistakable, and the way he looked at his usually so stern father, with eyes full of adoration, had been a bitter-sweet moment for Narcissa. She had been glad to see Lucius finally taking a deeper interest in his heir, yet from that moment on Draco had belonged solely to his father.

Regret filled her at the memories of her son. She had tried to keep him out of the war; away from the Dark Lord's service, yet for a whole year Draco had only spoken of the Dark Lord's return with excitement, only seeing how much it would benefit the family as they would rise together with the Dark Lord, to a position of unprecedented prominence. She had noticed the change in her son after Lucius' fall from grace after the Ministry debacle. He had tried to keep a brave face on at all times, but Narcissa could swear her son's eyes had betrayed his growing disillusionment.

Then came his sixth year at Hogwarts and she had watched with grave concern how he in desperation had done his utmost to save his family during their darkest hour by carrying out the Dark Lord's orders. Knowing her son, she knew that he had needed help, yet his pride had prevented him from asking for it. Bellatrix had told her the truth of Draco's _weakness_ , as her sister had called it, when he had held his Headmaster at wandpoint. Yet, Narcissa had been so relieved. Relieved it was over and done with. Secretly relieved that her son had not _murdered_ in cold blood, even if it was on the Dark Lord's orders.

As she made her way back to her own suite, she admitted to herself that she wished that none of this had happened; that the Dark Lord hadn't returned. With his rise, seemingly from the dead, they had not gained, but lost almost everything. The nature of their relationship with the Dark Lord, as obedient slaves; subject to every whim of their master, had been made abundantly clear. Before the war Lucius had rivaled Dumbledore in influence. Lucius had whispered _"Jump!"_ in the Minister's ear and the Minister had jumped. At times she had felt like she was the most prominent woman in all of Magical Britain. The ladies of the realm came to her in droves; for advice and guidance, for aid and comfort.

Almost absentmindedly she sat down and picked up her quill and parchment, and began to write in her beautiful script that she had been drilled on mercilessly as a child.

But hardly anyone came to her for advice anymore. Now their influence was as nothing. Lucius had been humbled; their son captured – if rumors were true – and their beautiful Mansion used as a home for the Dark Lord and all types of unsavory wizards, witches and _creatures_ who followed him. It was almost a relief that Hogwarts had fallen, as much as it pained her somehow. The Dark Lord had not yet returned and she hoped that he would stay there, or better yet build his own Mansion somewhere far away. There he could spend all his days torturing Muggles for all she cared. She pitied them; perhaps a bit, but it paled in comparison to how upsetting it had been to have such unspeakable things take place in her own home! Lucius had never brought his _playthings_ home like that, but knew to keep such disgusting pleasures far away from her.

The mere memory of it all made her call for a house-elf to bring her a calming draught. She shuddered as she drank it, and then forced herself to return her attention to the parchment in front of her.

Narcissa barely recognized her sister these days. Bella had returned from Azkaban mentally deranged, not that she had ever been very stable, but it seemed her condition was worsening. She and Rabastan were wounded in a fight with Potter, just a few days ago, and Bella had almost giggled in delight at finding a _worthy enemy_ as she called it. Then abruptly she had begun to curse him for being a filthy half-blood who _dared_ stand up against her master, after which she had looked ecstatic as she outlined all the things she would do to the _mudbloods_ on behalf of the Dark Lord. Her sister was losing it; _no,_ had already lost it. Narcissa knew intimately well that the Dark Lord used the _Cruciatus_ on his followers. Her husband had been subjected to it, and so had her son and sister. Bella seemed to take some perverse delight in it, but she was sure that it addled Bella's brains and robbed her of what little remained of her sanity.

" _Dear Andromeda,"_ was all she had managed to write so far. Should she have written _Mrs. Tonks_ in recognition of her marriage to the Mudblood? Or should she have been more familiar and used her childhood nickname _Dromeda_? In the end she supposed it didn't really matter, as her sister would not care one way or the other. There was simply too much bad blood between them. All she really needed from Andromeda was to help put her in contact with Potter. She knew that the Dark Lord would view this as treason, but Narcissa Malfoy desired only one thing at the moment. She wanted her son back. No matter what.

* * *

 **Hermione**

She woke up to the familiar sight of a small room, barely clean and with faded green tapestries, yet still with the faint smell of mould. But instead of Ginny sleeping next to her like during her first visits, she had been joined by Susan and Hannah since they reclaimed the Black house in Grimmauld Place. The two witches had been forced to share a bed as there weren't that many clean rooms and as it were, there were fewer girls than boys. Hermione didn't really think they had minded the closeness; she too wished she had someone to curl up against for comfort.

In truth, none of them had got much sleep since last week's events. The loss of Ernie had been a heavy blow; one she was still reeling from. They all were. Though they had never been overly close, Hermione and Ernie, she still regarded him as a good friend; a comrade. Though a pure-blood, Ernie hadn't wanted anything to do with the blood supremacists, but risked everything – and as of last week paid the ultimate price – for his own ideals, and for his friends.

Tears threatened to well up again as she remembered his easy smile, his loyalty to his friends and his dedication to Dumbledore's Army and Harry. In death, Ernie had come to symbolize the virtues of Hufflepuff; loyalty, dedication and hard work, patience and fair play. Despite the tears that were now falling freely down her already stained cheeks, she gave a small smile at the memories of the rocky start Ernie and Harry had to their friendship; with the former believing that Harry was the heir of Slytherin in second year and later cheated his way into the Tri-Wizard Tournament in fourth year. Ernie had changed as he matured, the same way the dark events had forced them all to grow up.

Hermione conjured another piece of tissue and dabbed at her cheeks. When she was done she softly cast the spell _evanesco_ and vanished it. If she couldn't get any sleep, she preferred getting up rather than keep lying in bed, dwelling on memories.

She cast a glance at her sleeping roommates. Hannah and Susan had stayed up most of the night again, talking and crying. As fellow Hufflepuffs they had lost a good friend of seven years. Now they looked almost peaceful as they finally slept in each other's arms. Deciding not to disturb them, Hermione tipped on her toes as she quietly left the room.

After a quick visit to the bathroom to wash her face, Hermione made her way through the dark and quiet house to the kitchen. When she opened the door the smell of breakfast greeted her. While she had no appetite, her stomach seemed to disagree and growled loudly.

"Hungry?" came Harry's voice as if he had heard her body's betrayal. He stood by the stove and scrambled eggs; strips of bacon had been placed on a plate covered in tissue to let the fat dry off. A small kettle was whistling on the stove and Hermione realized that he must have put up silencing charms on the kitchen.

As she didn't immediately answer, Harry turned around to look at her. He was dressed in black cargo pants, faded sneakers and a blue long-sleeved shirt. His hair was as messy as always and clear green eyes met her own. He looked less tired than usual.

"How are you holding up?" he asked softly, concern evident in his voice.

"Couldn't really sleep…" her voice broke off at the end. She didn't really need to say more because she knew he understood.

Harry nodded at her. "It still feels unreal," was all he said in a solemn voice. After another brief moment he gave a small shake of his head and turned back to scrambling the eggs.

Hermione decided to change the subject and as she looked around she spotted a small cloth-covered basket with what she assumed must be fresh bread, and next to it various jams and a small pack of butter. "Where did you find the food?" she asked in surprise.

As he began to distribute the now ready eggs on a few plates, he answered off-handedly. "Mrs. Tonks brought some from camp when she came over to help. They've just raided a Muggle store for food."

Hermione was glad she did; not only for the food, but poor Madame Pomfrey must have been exhausted with so many patients to care for and she had probably been desperate for some sleep. Hermione too had made herself available, even though she had at first technically been among the wounded. Fortunately she had only been hit by a modified _stunner_ of moderate strength; modified in such a way as to pass right through a normal shield. She wasn't sure how it was done, but she knew it was common practice among professional duelists. When your opponent could shield against your spells, one option was to modify them. Then new kinds of shields naturally followed, and after that, new spell modifications or new spells altogether. This on-going circle, she knew, was part of what the Muggles referred to as an arms race. It used to mean larger numbers of soldiers, tanks and aircraft, to be sure – but now had taken to mostly mean more advanced weapons and improved defenses.

Hermione took a seat and stared down at the plate that was in front of her. She didn't really want to eat, but finally settled for reluctantly picking at her eggs. The tea however was heavenly.

She glanced at Harry who seemed to dig into his plate with fervor. It worried her that he didn't seem to express his feelings anymore, well, besides anger. All week he had sported sad eyes, but otherwise seemed to bear their loss stoically. She hadn't seen him shed a single tear, but he had instead been kind and considerate of everyone else's feelings, while showing none of his own. _Why won't he cry?_

She kept picking at her food, not saying anything. Harry too seemed content to eat in silence.

The silence was eventually broken when the kitchen door opened and Ron stepped in, followed by Dean and Seamus. They all mumbled a quick good morning and sat down to eat. As they begun to eat they made weak attempts at conversation, but nothing took hold.

"'is good, 'arry!" Ron said between the mouthfuls, breaking the awkward silence. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Leave some for the rest of us, mate", said Neville as he too stepped inside the kitchen, but it didn't sound like his heart was in it. Neville had taken his defeat at the hands of Bellatrix, and Ernie's death, particularly hard. He blamed himself the poor fool, she knew.

After that the others too kept dropping in and Harry went back to making more eggs and bacon. Soon silence reigned again.

When Harry was done with the latest batch, he sat down and joined them at the table. He frowned as he looked at them, one after the other, but she was one of the few who met his eyes.

He put his fork down, swallowed a piece of bacon and took a sip from his tea. "This can't go on like this", he said softly as his eyes swept across the table. "We're all hurting, but with the risk of sounding uncaring, this is war and we will suffer losses. Ernie was a good friend, brave, but he would want us to pick ourselves up and carry on fighting for what we believe in; for what he _too_ believed in and was willing to risk his life."

No one said anything in response, and Harry just kept looking at them in the awkward silence that returned. Hermione could tell that he was disturbed by it, but she knew that he felt the responsibility on his shoulders, to carry on despite everything.

"Harry is right", she began, meeting his eyes again as he looked her way. "We should consider our next steps in this war."

" _Next steps?_ " Hannah interjected. "We can't fight them like this, they're too strong!" There was despair in her voice, and Hermione knew that many of the others shared her misgivings. They had all been rudely awakened to the reality that the Death Eaters didn't hesitate to go in for the kill. They had already known it intellectually, of course. But that wasn't the same as the experience of being targets of deadly spells. Despite having the element of surprise, despite _winning_ , if you could even call it that, they all felt as if they had barely escaped with their lives. And if it hadn't been for Harry they might not have, and they all knew it. They saw the power with which he had blasted a Death Eater to pieces; and the speed with which he had taken on Bellatrix and Rabastan. They had known for a few years that he was great at DADA, but they hadn't really understood how great, until they saw him in action.

"You're right", came Harry's soft voice. Hermione looked at him in surprise. _What did he mean?_ Hannah looked like he had confirmed all her fears; hands trembling as they rested on the table. Susan reached over and took Hannah's hands into her own.

"You're right we cannot fight them like _this"_ , he continued, voice gaining in strength and determination. "They have years of training and experience that we lack, even though most of them are undisciplined and rely heavily on the fear they inspire as well as on simple brute force, with a handful of dark spells, including the unforgivables. We were not meant to meet them like that, but it happened. We didn't expect them to come in such strength, but they did. As has been said, no plan survives the first contact or in our case the first cast spell, and there's always going to be a need to improvise; to think on the fly and adapt. But we need to learn from what went wrong last week and prepare better for next time. And we will. They can be beaten. We CAN beat them, and about that I'm not worried."

This time solemn nods greeted his words. Hermione marveled at his ability to inspire them, to raise their confidence and assuage their fears. Her own too, she admitted to herself.

It didn't take long thereafter before they dispersed. While they all had their tasks, Hermione knew that her place was in the Black family library, where she would undoubtedly be joined by Harry again. While he had been busy this past week, researching spells and anything that could be of use in the war, she knew that her self-imposed task of researching his scar was not less important. She was supposed to be the smartest witch of her generation, but this was a puzzle that perhaps not even the Headmaster had managed to solve.

* * *

 **Daphne**

It was a cloudy day when Daphne found herself walking hurriedly in Diagon Alley, nervously patting her pocket with her emergency portkey which would take her home immediately at any sign of trouble. A thick tension was in the air, but a semblance of order had been restored and while life on the normally bustling streets had not returned to what it used to be, both wizards and witches had begun to come out of hiding. Necessity drove them, Daphne surmised, as life had to go on somehow. Shopkeepers needed to tend their shops; street vendors to sell their wares. Although she thought it a fair guess that owl-orders had never been as common as now. She guessed however that many were equally driven by a need to trade news and gossip, given the numerous small groups of people who exchanged hushed whispers as they cast fearful looks all around them, but fell silent if someone accidentally came too close.

Daphne could understand how people were starving for news. Everybody understood now that the Daily Prophet was a mouth-piece for the new regime that had been proclaimed boldly on the front page just a week ago. It had made abundantly clear how the Minister of Magic and Wizengamot had sworn fealty to the Dark Lord in the name of Magical Britain. The Dark Lord had taken on the role of Chief Warlock, but subsumed the title under his own. In a snap-session, the Wizengamot – where attendance was now mandatory for all members – had unanimously confirmed his new authority and expanded powers. Daphne had of course known about from her father long before the Daily Prophet had made it public knowledge. He had curled his lip when he described it as " _voting at wandpoint_ ", but she knew that the Dark Lord's mocking laughter and red eyes still haunted him. He had furthermore been forced to vote for making Hogwarts' attendance mandatory for all purebloods until they completed their NEWTS, thereby essentially handing over his younger daughter Astoria as hostage for his continued good behavior. Her father had clutched his left forearm as he spoke through gritted teeth. He never mentioned it, but she wasn't stupid and she knew what it meant.

 _But it was foolish and dangerous to gossip on the streets_ , she thought as she spotted the black-robed men who menacingly patrolled the streets, presumably to uphold the new order. There had been many unexplained disappearances and her heart ached for news of Tracey, but as of yet, her parents hadn't learned anything new.

As if prove her thoughts on the foolishness of public gatherings, a patrol of five such black-robed men had spotted a small group of wizards further down the street. As they too caught sight of the patrol, they immediately stopped all conversation. One or two looked ready to bolt, but a tall gray-haired man in tattered robes raised his chin in what looked like a feeble attempt at defiance. _Bloody Gryffindor_ , Daphne thought.

It was also dangerous to stand and watch, so she forced herself to keep walking until she passed them by. After several more moments she stole a glance over her shoulder and saw that the patrol had continued on their way, apparently without arresting anyone this time. She saw the tall, defiant man spit after them before he quickly turned away and left. _Yes, definitely a Gryffindor_. But she also knew that discontent was widespread and growing. People who had feared to even say the name of the Dark Lord, after his last reign of terror, and had out of fear refused to believe in his return, weren't likely to simply accept the new way of things. Still, they were afraid and not many risked open displays of defiance. A few however, like said Gryffindor, couldn't help themselves, as much good as it did them.

Not all Gryffindors were foolish however. But the more she thought about it, Harry Potter became in her eyes a Gryffindor in name and appearance only. It wasn't that she didn't realize that he shared many traits with the lions, but despite all she had become certain that the Sorting Hat had seen his potential as a snake.

She knew that he had been under a lot of pressure – and distractions – during all his years at Hogwarts and the accusations of going dark, cheating, lying and being mentally unhinged, had stalked him like a jealous lover since 2nd year. Intermittently he had been back to being the boy-who-lived, and after the battle at the Ministry he had once again been hailed as a hero. Daphne assumed his sometimes brazen behavior had been just as much a sub-conscious defense mechanism as it reflected his true character.

A Gryffindor hero was clearly what people now needed, whereas a Slytherin could never have been viewed the same way, regardless of his or her actions. She knew the name Potter was now whispered often, as the last ray of hope for a frightened and cowed population who had seen their lives change overnight; where darkness seemed to reign supreme and their ultimate protector, Albus Dumbledore, dead. Even her parents secretly listened to _Potterwatch_ and traded their own news and rumors of Potter, and it was secretly whispered that he had led a group of former students and battled – _even defeated_ – a group of Death Eaters led by the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange herself, only a few weeks ago right here in London.

The Dark Lord had naturally been enraged and ordered Potter's, and his known followers', vaults to be confiscated immediately. Apparently that hadn't sat well with Gringotts who had so far refused to comply. The Goblins claimed that under their treaties, only convicted criminals could have their vaults confiscated and neither Potter nor his followers had ever seen court. But to Daphne it seemed like they were playing a high-stakes game of their own, as she doubted they cared a fig for Harry or any other wizard or witch, but to what end she couldn't tell.

Daphne continued walking and as she did so, she passed the burnt-down remains of the Weasley twins' shop. She recalled the irreverent sign that made a constipation joke of the Dark Lord's popular moniker and shuddered at the thought. Now the Weasleys were definitely Gryffindors through and through. No other wizarding family had stuck as closely to Harry as surely as they had and she bet all the galleons in her pouch that they were all still fighting with him, wherever he was. She chuckled mirthlessly at the thought that they were a small army themselves, given their numbers. After a last turn, she made it into a small side street right at the edge of Diagon Alley, with Knockturn Alley not far beyond.

At long last she saw the potion shop and her final destination today. They all needed to replenish their supplies and she had volunteered to go out, refusing to be stuck inside all summer long. Her parents had only reluctantly given their permission.

The street was all empty and she had a creeping feeling that something was wrong. Just as she was about to open the door to the shop, she heard screaming inside. She hesitated and tightened her grip on the small silver brooch in her pocket that served as a portkey, heart pounding in her chest. When she heard another awful scream – " _Please no!_ " – she broke out of her trance and braved a peak through the window. On the floor inside was a woman, the apothecary, she thought. Hovering around her were three black-robed men with their wands out; one of them pointing at the woman on the floor before her abruptly raised his wand again, seemingly lifting the curse he had cast at her. Daphne thought she heard him bark a command, but she couldn't make out the words.

With a heavy heart she realized that there was nothing she could do to help the poor woman inside. Just as she was about to leave, she felt a hand on her shoulder and tensed immediately, fear threatening to overcome her.

After just a moment, she turned around and took in the sight of a group of men – and one woman – with only mouths and eyes visible due to their black cloth masks. The masks made an odd addition to their jeans and t-shirts. She didn't have time to wonder who they were however, before the one who had grabbed her shoulder held a finger to his mouth, admonishing her to remain silent while looking at her with hard blue eyes. He made a nod towards the street, clearly indicating that she should leave now. She nodded her assent and quietly started to move away. As she did so, she saw the lone woman raise her wand and mutter a few soft incantations. She grabbed for her portkey in her pocket, but nothing happened. _Anti-portkey and probably anti-apparition wards_ , she realized in rising panic. _Shit!_

She didn't know who these people were, but it was clear they meant business and she was under strict orders to leave at any sign of trouble. Seeing as the masked people had taken position outside the shop, she began to run as fast as her legs could carry her. Before she made it far she heard loud explosions, followed by yells and screams. She continued running, hand firmly grabbing the portkey. Any moment now she would be out of the range of the wards. Hearing more explosions she increased the pace and ran, until suddenly she felt a familiar pull below her navel before she was whisked away to safety.

* * *

 **Harry**

With a sigh Harry leaned back in his chair at the end of the long wooden table in the dimly lit dining room of 12 Grimmauld Place, as the others began to disperse. He had finished listening to their report on the raid and everything seemed to have gone according to plan, except perhaps for Daphne's unexpected presence. _What were the odds that she would turn up right at their very first raid?_ He almost wished he had been there, but he had wanted Neville to earn the victory and regain some of his lost confidence. It had all worked out in the end and Daphne had left just before it began. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to contact her to find out if she was alright. He really did want to talk to her again.

Harry absentmindedly tapped on the table with his fingers as he considered the implications of the raid. There were always things that could be improved for the next time, yet they weren't exactly in a hurry to repeat the raid. Unpredictability was one of the few weapons at their disposal and he didn't want to make the mistake to assume that Voldemort wouldn't find a counter. Nevertheless, he was pleased with the results, and pleased with Neville's leadership, but he grimaced at the brutality displayed after the short battle had been won. He knew it was necessary, as he had in fact suggested a somewhat similar course of action himself, and didn't question it though.

Three Death Eater corpses, or _Imperial Guards_ as they were referred to now that they had removed the masks, had been hung from lamp posts as a warning. Carved into their exposed chests was the sign of the Deathly Hallows, with the triangle, circle and vertical line. It made Harry distinctly uncomfortable as it had been Grindelwald's sign. He didn't want to be associated with the former Dark Lord, or be thought of as an upcoming rival Dark Lord himself, but Neville had apparently taken his cue from Luna. _Merlin, how she seemed to be obsessed with the Peverells lately!_

He also wondered at the signs they hung on the corpses, displaying Hogwarts' motto _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,_ never tickle a sleeping dragon, but oddly enough it felt quite appropriate.

That too had been all Luna. He wondered at her often as he couldn't for the life of him figure out how her mind works. Most just thought her crazy, but while Harry agreed she was one of a kind and distinctly odd, she had also found a place in his heart as one of his closest and most trusted friends. She had gone through hell when she was captured by Death Eaters, but had come out remarkably _intact_. Sometimes he marveled at her ability to deliver scarily accurate assessments cloaked in nonsensical words. She had even told him not to become an Auror because they were part of the Rotfang Conspiracy to overthrow the Ministry. He didn't pay it any mind until he saw Aurors joining up with the Dark Lord when the Ministry was overthrown. He didn't think they all had, but he was unable to reach out to them just yet. Maybe he could put Kingsley and Tonks on it soon?

He was brought back from his thoughts by said girl approaching. Luna hadn't been there for the debriefing, but he had a feeling as to why she sought him out now. She had spoken incessantly about the Peverells since they were reunited.

"Did I interrupt a deep thought again?" Luna asked in her usual dreamy voice. She gave him a sweet smile as she sat down on a chair next to him.

"I don't mind", he replied with a small grin. She always managed to cheer him up somehow, perhaps simply by being herself. He spotted her butterbeer cork necklace she often wore and raised an eyebrow, "Keeping the Nargles away today?"

"No, silly", she laughed. "Dad and I never found one and we concluded they have gone into hiding". She didn't elaborate any further however, and Harry decided to drop it.

After a moment's silence, she asked him, "You don't approve, do you?"

While it was sometimes hard to follow her abrupt changes in conversation, he knew what she meant this time.

"Just not sure it's wise… you know, Grindelwald", he replied slowly.

"But Grindelwald had only one, just like You-Know-Who, while you already have two and is the rightful owner of the third", she said cryptically.

Feeling quite confused, Harry tried to explain better, "Politically. I don't think it's wise to use _his_ sign, unless I want to come across as a rival Dark Lord. Surely you can understand that?"

"Oh Harry, people already believe in all kinds of impossible things", she giggled before adding, "Darkness is just the absence of light, but you have so much of both."

Harry didn't really know what to make of that and felt like they held two quite different conversations. Before he managed to figure out whether to keep trying or change topic, she continued, "But neither of them is a true Peverell, while you are, Harry, and the Elder Wand is already yours too."

"But you just said that _he_ has it, didn't you?" Harry asked. "And besides, Tom is also descendent from the Peverells. The Gaunts definitely claimed to be", Harry went on.

"Oh it's in his hand, but he doesn't _truly_ have it of course. _You_ will be the Master of Death, Harry", came the amused reply.

She then startled him once again by asking, "When do you intend to talk to your parents, the goat and Stubby Boardman?"

It took him a moment before he realized she meant Sirius.

"What do you mean talking to them?" he asked confusedly.

"With the Resurrection Stone, silly!" she smiled.

"But… I don't have it", he replied weakly all the while his hand felt for the snitch in his pocket. He _knew_ it was in there, having reached that conclusion a while ago. And while Hermione was wrong about the Hallows, the blasted thing still refused to open.

At that she gave him such a disappointed look that he felt embarrassed, but he was unsure what he had said that caused it.

"Of course you do, Harry", she sighed. "I can feel its presence right here and now."

After a moment's hesitation he pulled the snitch out of his pocket and held it up in front of her.

"It only opens at the close, whatever that means", Harry sighed dejectedly. "I've tried every spell, every password, but nothing".

"But you're safe now as you haven't accepted what it means to be the Master of Death", Luna said patiently.

"Luna, what does that even mean?" Harry failed to keep the frustration out of his voice. Their longwinded conversation only seemed to lead to more questions, but never any answers.

"Oh Harry, _Death_ couldn't find Ignotus Peverell, but in the end also he died because he had accepted it as inevitable and let himself be found. _That's_ what it means."

At that Harry quirked his eyebrows, "And that's why Tom can never be the Master of Death, because he could never accept that death is part of life!", came the startling realization. His thoughts raced at an impossible speed as the mystery finally seemed to unravel. "Dumbledore meant for me to die", he let out in a harsh whisper. "But why?"

Luna just smiled at him sadly and took his hand into her own.

"Because you're a Horcrux, Harry", came Hermione's sudden voice, startling him. He hadn't even heard her approach, but she must have overheard at least part of their conversation.

She sounded heartbroken. As he turned around he could tell how she barely managed to keep her tears in check, but somehow she managed to tell him what she had figured out.

Harry felt his world was falling apart. All his plans for the war; all his hopes for the day after. He had never felt such betrayal before. His mind was reeling from the implications; thoughts spinning at a dizzying speed once more. His mysterious connection with Voldemort, the supposed transfer of power, the prophecy and Dumbledore's refusal to properly train him. All the half-truths and half-lies. It all became clear to him right then. _The utter bastard!_

Seeing Luna's and Hermione's startled expressions he realized that he had screamed that last part out loud. Perhaps even all of it, but he didn't care.

He heard voices approaching and soon enough questions of "What happened?" and "What's going on, Harry?" were thrown his way, while he just sat there with eyes closed.

They were worried; always so worried about him. The thought of Hermione and her incessant worrying – _for seven years already_ – almost made him start laughing hysterically. But seeing the pain written all over her face now that she had learned the truth stopped him. _It was ultimately all for nothing_ , he thought bitterly.

He opened his eyes and slowly took in the worried faces of his friends. Clearing his throat, he said softly, "Albus Dumbledore intended for me to die".

At the look of shock on their faces, he added, "I will have to die, as there is no other way to win. I … I have a piece … of Voldemort's soul … right here in my scar." He found it difficult to even say the words. It frankly disgusted him. "There is no other explanation and Hermione figured it out."

They all looked stunned at hearing his words. Hannah gripped Susan's arm tightly and Neville simply looked resigned.

"And _that bastard_ even hinted at it several times when I pressed him for answers, but he never told me the whole truth and I never pieced it together until now."

Feeling a sudden inexplicable urge, he held the snitch close to his mouth and spoke in resignation, "I'm going to die". He still had some time, but the end was definitely approaching.

All of a sudden, the golden snitch broke open and revealed the black stone within.

END OF CHAPTER 6

Author's note: A big thank you to all reviewers.

 _Update: Changed Luna's question about when Harry intends to talk to "your parents, the wolf and Stubby Boardman" to "your parents, the goat and Stubby Boardman". I unintentionally implied that Remus is dead._


	7. Chapter 7

" _So in war, the way is to avoid what is strong, and strike at what is weak."  
Sun Tzu, The Art of War_

 **Chapter 7**

 **Harry**

Later the same night Harry found himself lying in the soft bed of the Master bedroom, unable to sleep. No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop the frantic thoughts running through his head. He didn't feel ready to die; hell, he felt as if he barely lived at all. He was only 17 years old and since he turned 11 his life had been a hell of a rollercoaster, far surpassing his wildest dreams when he was a child and just wished to be somewhere else, to _be_ someone else; a person with a loving family.

For the hundredth time that evening he almost reached for the Resurrection Stone that was now safely secured in a small pouch on his bedside table. He was sorely tempted to try to use it, but equally afraid of failure. Not just failure, but what he would learn. He had seen his parents briefly in the graveyard when Tom had fashioned a new body for himself, but it had felt as if in a dream. At his fingertips he now had a way to talk to not only his parents, but to Sirius as well.

He desired to, desperately, but guilt threatened to overcome him. His parents had sacrificed themselves so that he would live. His godfather had come to the rescue and died because Harry had been a fool. If they had only demanded a trial, if he hadn't stopped Remus and Sirius from killing Peter in the shrieking shack all those years ago. Perhaps then Voldemort would still be looking for a way to come back; perhaps Sirius would be alive and a free man, allowing them to live together as they were meant to. Perhaps war wouldn't be upon them so soon, long before they were ready. Perhaps it would never have come at all if they had been able to search for the Horcruxes in peace. _All these what-ifs are ultimately pointless_ , he decided for the umpteenth time.

With a sigh Harry got up and put on his slippers. A quick tempus showed him that it was around 4 am. There would be little, if any, sleep tonight. He slowly made his way to the library. The house was completely quiet, except for the occasional snoring painting. Besides Walburga the paintings completely ignored them. Perhaps it was their way of showing their displeasure at the state of House Black these days. He quietly made his way through the dark house until he reached the door to the library. He had given everyone free access to the Black library, yet only he himself, Hermione and sometimes Neville seemed to want anything to do with it. It practically reeked of dark magic in here and some of the books made his old _The Monster Book of Monsters_ seem practically tame by comparison.

Since arriving at 12 Grimmauld Place he had spent at least half the nights, and many days, reading up on all kinds of curses to broaden his spell repertoire, and to find useful counter curses. Sirius had once said, in a voice full of his ever-present disdain for his family, that the Black family library held far more knowledge of dark magic than Voldemort had likely ever managed to learn.

Harry wasn't particularly keen on learning dark magic for its own sake. Hell, he had been made aware of the inherent dangers; how it sucked you in by giving satisfaction to your worst impulses. Anger and hate fuelled many of the spells and magic itself would start to beckon to be used in such a way. In a way it was both similar to, and the complete opposite of, spells like the Patronus charm. It too was fuelled by your emotions, but by your capacity to feel happiness. He had cast the Cruciatus on Bellatrix at the end of his fifth year, but she had laughed at him and told him that he needed to really mean it. He felt fairly sure that he would be more successful if he tried it again. At least on her. Although he wasn't sure if he really wanted to be the kind of person who could power the Cruciatus at that level.

Once he had overheard some foolish Ravenclaws, who tended to view everything intellectually and logically, claim that there was no real difference between so-called dark and light spells; that even light spells like the levitation charm could be used to drop someone to their death, and that the killing curse could be used to put suffering people out of their misery by ending their lives in a relatively merciful manner.

Harry knew better. Only pure unadulterated hatred – and not necessarily for the person who was the target of the spell – needed to fill you to the brim for it to work. Witches and wizards, whose hearts were full of hate, resentment and anger, were the only ones who could power the spell. This realization was part of how he rationalized killing his enemies; how he had convinced his friends to not hold back and give in to their inclination to be merciful. He didn't truly wish to kill, but if anyone deserved it, it was the bastards who had fallen far enough to be able to cast the killing curse.

As always, thinking about these moral conundrums made Harry feel ill at ease. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he pulled a random tome from one of the shelves that didn't quite reek of evil as some of the others he had encountered. He shuddered at some of the memories.

Harry flipped open the cover and saw that the title of the book was _Magic and Blood: an Exposition of Ancient Rituals_ and almost immediately put it back again. His only experience with rituals was something he'd rather forget. Yet, he had often wondered if it was a ritual that had saved his life when Voldemort had killed his parents. It seemed quite a lot more likely than the idea that only his mother had loved him enough to try to shield him during one of the countless attacks of the First War. His mother's love was very special to _him_ , but surely it wasn't that different from the love other mothers had for their children.

He scanned through the pages. The book discussed at length the speculation that the first Parselmouth had undergone a ritual involving a snake familiar to acquire their language and make it a hereditary trait. It was theorized that any familiar could be used in the same manner, but Harry balked at the theorized requirement of sacrificing said familiar. He instinctively knew that he could never do such a thing just to gain some special power.

Skipping ahead he read gruesome explanations on how sacrificing your defeated enemies could help power defensive wards, how some family rituals, involving the virgin bride and groom on their wedding night, could be used to ensure fertility and the birth of a healthy and magically strong male heir, but at the cost of having any further children. He briefly wondered whether dear old Lucius and Narcissa had made use of this ritual. Not that Draco was all that powerful, but Harry supposed he had to admit that he wasn't a slouch either. Perhaps with all the inbreeding he would have been a squib otherwise, or a near-squib at the very least. Regardless of the truth of the matter, neither goal nor method was of any appeal to Harry. He shook his head at the thought of people actually doing something like that. At the same time, the fertility ritual was also a painful reminder that he would never have a family of his own.

Somewhat later he read something that immediately caught his undivided attention. It was called the Ritual of the Animagus. At first, he got his hopes up that it would be a shortcut to becoming an animagus himself. He truly desired to become one, not just for the benefits, but for the connection to his father and godfather he would have by following in their footsteps. As it turned out, the ritual was nothing of the sort.

The ritual offered on the almost faded pages of the thick tome was not a way to become an animagus, but to become something more than merely human. In exchange for sacrificing your animagus form, or more specifically the potentiality of it as an already accomplished animagus cannot undergo this ritual, you would acquire some of the animal's characteristics.

It was risky, Harry determined, as there was no turning back once the ritual was completed. When they had been on the run hunting for Horcruxes, they had all spent an awful month with Mandrake leaves in their mouths. Hermione had thought it could give them an advantage on their enemies, but it hadn't quite turned out that way in the end. For sure, Ron had been somewhat pleased to find out that his form was a red fox, but Hermione had huffed in indignation when it turned out that her form was a rabbit. Harry and Ron had admirably refrained from any mention of her buck teeth in their early years, but had exchanged amused glances behind her back.

His own form however, had left him quite satisfied. The black crow he had seen in a vision and with Hermione's help identified as a carrion crow with its black plumage and green sheen – as well as its slightly smaller size – had felt _right_ somehow. Hearing Hermione recite what she knew about the bird had further increased his identification with his form. Apparently the carrion crow was clever, adaptable and fearless. While these characteristics weren't necessarily ones he would associate with himself, at least not cleverness, both Hermione and Ron had been quite vocal about their disagreement with his assessment of himself. But the fact that they were solitaire, and tended to bond with very few people, was something he could definitely identify with. It also fit well with how much he felt at home in the air and flying was one of his greatest pleasures. However, he had blushed when she mentioned the somewhat negotiable place monogamy had among mated pairs. Ron completely failed at suppressing a smirk at that before he seemed to remember that Harry had briefly dated Ron's own sister. After a year on the run however, Harry was glad he had been able to extract himself from that potential disaster in the making. Ginny was lovely, but felt too much like a sister for him to feel comfortable about viewing her with romantic interest. _Daphne on the other hand..._ As always he felt a peculiar warmth in his chest as he thought of her.

Pulling his thoughts away from the beautiful Slytherin, he considered the animagus issue again. The problem was simply that there had been no time to begin the long and arduous process of transforming into their animagus forms, not that Hermione had been anymore. While there were ways to speed up the process, neither he nor Ron were particularly adept at occlumency. As tempting as it was, they had been forced to put this project on hold. It was a nice idea of what they could strive to accomplish after the war, assuming they lived through it.

But _now_ , when the prospect of survival has been taken away from him, he considered that it might not be such a bad idea to pursue this highly irregular course of action. After all, he needed all the advantages he could get and the ritual was actually quite simple. Mentally preparing himself, he got up and brought the book back to his bedroom. He would need to make sure he understood it completely and took every precaution.

 _Yes_ , he thought, _a dying man has nothing to lose_.

* * *

 **Hermione**

Hermione rose early the next morning, yawning and fighting the almost overwhelming desire to simply go back to bed. Across the room, Susan and Hannah were still asleep in each other's arms, making her wonder momentarily if there was more to their relationship than they let on. But perhaps she was reading too much into it. It didn't even matter to her in the slightest, but she couldn't help being curious, and perhaps even somewhat jealous of the closeness they seemed to share.

As she went to bed the night before she was still reeling from the shock of her discovery and just before she fell asleep, she had determined the next course of action. There had to be another way; a way to remove the Horcrux from Harry without killing him, and she had to figure out how. After learning about the existence of Horcruxes more than a year ago, she had taken to finding out all that she possibly could and now she doubted that there were that many people, not including Voldemort himself, who knew more about Horcruxes then she did. She fervently wished that she didn't need to know at all, that she could obliviate herself of the knowledge. But it was a useless wish.

Yawning once again, Hermione quickly got dressed and made her way to the library. Breakfast could wait. She had a long day ahead of her. As she entered the dusty old library she could immediately tell that someone had been there during the night. Somewhere along the road she had acquired a keen sense for such things, especially in libraries. Having been the last one to leave last night, she couldn't help but notice that something about the library was different. Biting her lip she tried to figure it out.

 _Harry_ , she thought. He was one of the few who would visit the library and they had often sat together reading quietly over the past weeks. She ventured over to his usual seat and noticed a glaring hole on one of the shelves. For the life of her she couldn't remember what book it was, but among the thousands of books in the Black library that was hardly surprising.

 _So Harry may have brought a book back to bed with him, what of it?_ _He has a right to his secrets, after all._ But for some reason she couldn't let go of her uneasy feeling. With a lot of effort she pushed her need to know away. Harry needed her now more than ever and she had to stay focused.

Hermione sighed and went to the corner of the library that she dreaded most. If the library itself reeked of dark magic, the books here turned her stomach and it took all her effort to stop from shaking. The feeling she got was similar in a way to carrying around the horcrux and she could almost hear the feint whispers in her head; speaking to her worst insecurities, preying on her deepest-held fears.

It only took her a few moments to find the books she was looking for. After another brief moment's hesitation she pulled out a dusty book and began scanning its contents. The only two books he knew that held references to Horcruxes were _Magick Moste Evile_ , even though its reference was quite useless, and _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. She would need to revisit the book as perhaps she had missed some crucial information. But for now she would need to cover the darkest books in the library; essentially any of them that touched upon soul magic. She did indeed have a long day ahead of her.

* * *

 **Neville –** a couple of days later

Still panting heavily, Neville entangled himself from the beautiful blonde witch and lay down next to her as he looked up towards the ceiling. As he lay there catching his breath, his face split into a wide smile. He hadn't expected any of this, but it happened nevertheless and he had never felt as happy. Turning back to her he saw her watching him with a smile of her own. He took in her naked form, completely exposed to his still hungry eyes. _Merlin, she was beautiful!_

Their relationship had begun just a few weeks earlier, although he had desired her for years. From the moment he had finally made his feelings clear, things had progressed at an astounding pace. Hannah had made it clear from the start though that she was also exploring her relationship with Susan and whatever it was that went on between them she had no intention of stopping it. But for some reason he wasn't particular bothered by the idea. Perhaps it was the crazy times they lived in. _If his grandma knew what he was up to now she would probably faint_ , he thought amusedly.

Neville had even hinted at one point of doing some exploring together all three of them, but Hannah hadn't been even slightly amused and sharply told him to get his mind out of the gutter. _But how exactly was that any fair?_ He wondered. Witches were strange creatures even at the best of times.

"I like it when you smile like that," she said, offering a smile of her own as she shifted over and rested her head on his still slightly heaving chest. Her long blonde hair was a tangled mess, but it only made her look sexier in his eyes.

He sighed contentedly as he put his arm around her, resting his hand on her back.

"You make me happy," he said softly in response. She played with the hair on his chest, twirling it in her hand. For some reason her smile had disappeared, but he didn't think it was something he said.

"What's on your mind, love?" Neville had a feeling she had already gone back in her mind to a much darker place.

Hannah didn't reply immediately, but kept twirling his chest hair. He wouldn't even begin to guess what her fascination with it was. Right now Neville was acutely aware of her own chest pressing into his side.

"Just thinking…about us, about the war," she finally said as she pulled sharply at one his hairs, causing him to grunt in pain.

"Care to share your thoughts?" He asked her after a moment, when it seemed as if she didn't intend to elaborate any further.

"I don't know, just stuff."

"We'll be alright, you know," he tried to reassure her.

"How can you even say that?" Hannah asked indignantly. It didn't seem like she was in the mood for his reassurances right now, but he had to try. Merlin knew that Hannah wasn't as stoic about their situation as Susan or Hermione were.

"Don't you trust in Harry… or me?" he tried. "He has a plan and I _know_ he can accomplish anything, against any odds."

She giggled at that. "Hearing you talk like that all the time makes me wonder why you were not sorted into Hufflepuff, my sweet Neville."

He just smiled at her in response. The others teased him sometimes for his loyalty to Harry, but they simply didn't know that the Longbottoms had _always_ stood shoulder to shoulder with the Potters since time immemorial. His grandmother had taught him that long before he even went to Hogwarts and while it had taken him a while to overcome his innate shyness, he knew on whose side he belonged.

But even if family tradition hadn't demanded it, Neville was sure he would have stood by him regardless. There was simply something about Harry, even though he couldn't put his finger on what exactly that was. It was not that he didn't recognize Harry's faults, yet he knew that without Harry all would simply be lost. Besides, he wasn't stupid. He understood well enough why they had been in the Hall of Prophecies in 5th year. They had never really spoken about it openly, but there was no doubt in his mind that Harry truly _was_ the Chosen One.

"You just laugh, love," he said still smiling. "But you'll see. We'll get through this somehow, and all will be well again."

For the longest time she just looked at him before offering him a shrug. "If you say so."

"I do."

He felt a pang of regret as she sat up and started looking for her clothes.

"Are you just going to lie here then?" She asked. "I know that men tend to get lazy afterwards, but we should probably get going, unless of course you care to go again." She gave him a mischievous smirk when she added that last part. Her abrupt change of conversation – and mood – startled him a bit, but he merely shook his head and began looking for his own clothes. It was probably time for lunch soon and he realized he was actually quite hungry.

As they got dressed in silence, his thoughts went back to the events of these past days. Harry had told them in no uncertain terms that he was going to die, that it was the only way for him to win. Hermione had of course refused to accept that and had subsequently locked herself up in the Black library with a fervor that put her Hogwarts' days to shame. Well, there's nothing he could do about that. Shaking off these unhappy thoughts, he followed Hannah out of the room.

Pushing these thoughts aside, he turned his mind to their plans for later this evening. They were heading back to Camp. Not all of them of course, but he, Harry, the Weasleys and Susan would. He didn't know what the target was yet, but he knew that Harry meant for them to strike again. Neville smiled as he felt the excitement begin to build within him.

He had taken part of some of the plans though. He knew that Ginny, Cho and some of the other Quidditch girls had been busy learning how to fight from brooms, if he recalled Harry's words correctly. _Night Witches_ , he had called it, whatever that meant.

His own part was easier to understand. Neville was a dueler, of a surprisingly high caliber. Remus Lupin had said many times that he was now a match for his father at the same age, and at one time he had said it in front of Neville's grandma. He smiled at the memory. Ever since the events in the Ministry his grandma had started to come around and now her pride in him was quite visible.

As Neville entered the dining room he saw that almost everyone was already gathered. The twins were laughing at something and as drew closer their laughter only seemed to grow in intensity. _What was going on?_ He wondered.

"Good of you to join us old chap", Fred finally said with a wide grin on his face. At least he thought it was Fred.

"Yes, quite _chivalrous_ of you to say your farewells… so _thoroughly_ ", George added, grinning just as widely.

"Quite right, oh brother of mine." Fred continued. "But may we suggest… in all humility and quite a bit of awe… as you've clearly put the rest of us to shame…" At this point Lee snickered. "That you use silencing charms the next time?"

Everyone laughed loudly as Neville and Hannah went beet red. He was trying to come up with a retort when Harry joined them and everybody fell silent. There was no sign on his face that he shared in their levity.

"Is everyone ready?" he asked. As the others nodded he simply said, "Let's go then. And keep doing what you're doing, Nev." Harry continued with an evil smirk. "For a moment there I thought _you_ were the one with the magic Tom doesn't know."

After a few more chuckles, the dining room emptied out as the wizards and witches disapparated.

* * *

 **Harry**

The camp site was busy on this late afternoon as Harry and the others arrived. There seemed to be hundreds of colorful tents in all shapes and sizes; sprawled out over an area larger than dozens of Quidditch fields put together. He had heard the reports of course, of people coming from near and far in search of refuge – and how it was a rallying point for those who were inclined to fight – but it was quite a different thing to see it with his own eyes. _There had to be thousands of wizards and witches here_ , Harry thought to himself in satisfaction. McGonagall, Moony and the others must have worked day and night to gather them in. He frowned at the thought of the security threat this posed. Could they trust all the newcomers? Were there any efforts to weed out potential spies? And how long until the Dementors found them? He made a mental note to talk to Moony, Tonks and Bill about it later.

As he approached the tents people everywhere stopped and stared at him and soon enough the whispers seemed to break out. Some sported smiles on their faces, while others looked nervous. _What have they heard about me this time?_ Harry thought in resignation as he took in their stares.

Yet others merely looked solemn and he quickly made a beeline to a group of very determined-looking witches. He spotted Cho and Ginny, Angelina, Alicia and Katie. There were others there as well, including Heidi Macavoy whom he hadn't seen in some years. All thirteen witches greeted him with small smiles, but he could tell they looked excited. When he had discussed his idea with Ginny and Cho, they had been all eager to go ahead, but it was time to see whether weeks of preparation had borne fruit.

After they finished exchanging some pleasantries, he took out his broom from the mokeskin pouch that Hagrid had given him for his birthday. Harry looked wistfully at the Nimbus 2000 in his hand. He missed his Firebolt, but had at least found a very decent replacement for the time being.

"Let's see what you've got", he told them, his focus now solely on the task at hand. The gathered witches nodded and pulled out their own brooms.

"No stunners and other non-lethal spells, are we clear?" He wanted to see if they were truly ready. They all nodded again.

"Alright then, point me your targets and let's get started." As he finished speaking Ginny gestured towards a few lonely trees further down the field. It was far enough that no one else would risk being harmed. The witches took to the air jointly with a grace that he had come to expect from each and every one of them. They were all Quidditch veterans but now their aim was something else entirely.

Without hesitating, he took off after them. From a short distance, Harry followed them as they flew high above the ground until he positioned himself high above the ground where he would be best able to get a good view. After just a few moments they all disappeared from sight. He pulled out his wand and sent colorful sparks into the air as a sign to begin.

For a while nothing seemed to happen, but then he spotted them. They flew in a V-shaped formation as fast as their brooms would carry them. Besides Cho, none of them had even a Nimbus 2000, but he could tell they were pushing their brooms for all they were worth.

Suddenly they turned sharply, while maintaining the formation perfectly. As they were only a couple of hundred yards from the designated trees, Cho seemed to signal with her hand before they all pulled their wands and dove in low.

After less than a few seconds they were upon their targets and he could hear the shouts of spells being cast. Streaks of color flew through the air and immediately set some trees on fire, while other spells chopped of branches clean. It was a sight to behold as the witches made short work of their "enemies".

The spells continued for a few more moments until they broke off as one, veered sharply to the right after which they regained some lost altitude. Not long after they disappeared entirely.

"Bloody hell!", Ron exclaimed excitedly when he returned to the ground. They had all gathered to watch and as Harry looked around, he could see that they all seemed as impressed as him.

 _Damn, this might actually work_.

It had been his idea, although Ron had helped with the details and come up with some of the strategies they had considered. Harry actually came up with it based off a discussion he once had with Hermione on why no one seemed to be fighting from the air, his escape from Privet Drive notwithstanding. It turned out that Hermione knew quite a bit about World War II and even how the Germans on the Eastern front had been terrified of the _Nachthexen_ , the female bombers who made minced meat of the German lines and ammunition depots. They were called such because they barely made a sound as they unexpectedly appeared out of nowhere. _Night Witches_ , he thought. How appropriate. After their impressive display, all that was left was to see how they would fare in darkness. While not strictly necessary, he would like for them to learn how to shield themselves in the air as well. Perhaps the Cuneus-shield Flitwick had taught him would work, if any of them was strong enough to pull it off.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Kingsley, Remus, Tonks and Bill. _Right_ , he thought, _it's was time to finalize their plans_.

After having greeted him with kisses from Tonks and firm handshakes from the men, they withdrew to a private tent.

Harry inspected them quietly for a moment.

"Alright, what's the word on the Parkinson Mansion? Any recent activity there that we should be aware of?" He asked Tonks, looking straight into her eyes.

Tonks met his eyes firmly, "None. Besides Mrs. Parkinson, the only one I've spotted besides Mr. Parkinson is his brother." She spat at that. Both the Parkinson brothers were known Death Eaters and about as blood purist as they came.

"Good, good," Harry responded with a nod. It was a good thing that Pansy's brother was at Hogwarts now. He really didn't want to harm children if he could avoid it.

"And the wards are nothing too fancy," Bill added. "Clearly they feel quite _safe_ in their own homes," he added with a smirk. Bill wasn't one to be squeamish about attacking Death Eaters. If he harbored any remaining doubts, recent events – most especially the battle of Grimmauld Place – had firmly removed them. Bill had seemed _delighted_ at the idea of striking at the homes of Death Eaters. Perhaps the attack on his wedding day had something to do with it, Harry mused.

"Harry… are you sure about this?" Remus began hesitatingly. His honorary uncle always seemed to hate the idea of Harry putting himself in any kind of danger. "You keep saying that you're acting on Dumbledore's orders… but I'm increasingly starting to doubt that you're telling us the whole story here. I can't imagine Dumledore putting you up to this. And when are you going to reveal to us the rest of the plan?"

Harry hated the necessary lies, but the situation being what it was, he would have to continue on the path he had already taken.

"I spent much of my sixth year learning from him in our private lessons about the true nature of Tom, but also about what had gone wrong during the first war and what needed to be done to rid ourselves of this threat once and for all. Dumbledore… he _recognized_ that he had made a mistake by insisting on passive defense rather than taking the initiative. As much as it pained him, he reluctantly admitted that we can't just let the Death Eaters live to fight another day. You know how he was, always ready to give second chances and all, but he was not a fool." Well, as a matter of fact, a fool he _had_ been and it made Harry angry every time he thought about it. _A mild-mannered, sweet, good-hearted genius of a wizard. But nevertheless a fool._

Serving them this cock and bull story was hard, but Harry thought he managed it with a straight face. He met Remus speculative look evenly, betraying nothing of what he felt within. Kingsley, Tonks and Bill nodded at him. Either because they accepted his story, as unlikely as it seemed, or because they didn't care much either way.

Deciding not to let them dwell too much on it, Harry pushed ahead.

"Bill, have you heard back from Charlie yet? Any news on his _pet_ project?" He asked the eldest Weasley son.

Bill nodded. "As a matter of fact I was going to tell you. The only one he can bring is Norberta since she's technically Hagrid's. Dad went to help and he took a few others with him. They should be here in another few weeks, assuming they manage to smuggle her undetected. But I have to say Harry, of all the insane plans I've ever heard of, this surely takes the prize!"

Harry only smiled in response at the questioning looks he received from the others. _Yes, it was definitely a high-risk, high-reward plan._ Once he learned that dragons speak the same language as snakes, or close enough, he had regretted not trying to claim the Gringotts' dragon. Hell, his fight with the Hungarian Horntail could have gone quite differently if he had only known. But that was neither here nor there. All he was left with was a desperate attempt to gain any possible advantage and always do the unexpected.

With a final nod he got back to his feet. He opened the tent flap and before he made his exit, he turned back to them for a final word, "We'll leave in two hours. Please get everyone ready. I have some more business to attend to."

Once outside he took out his wand and silently cast a _point-me Andromeda Tonks_. Feeling the pull to the south, he began heading out in her direction. As he walked through camp he was once again startled by all the activity he saw all around. Various adults busy at a myriad of tasks. Children playing; laughing as they chased each other; small girls carrying around toys; others listening intently to a story told by one of the adults. There was a sense of normalcy here that he hadn't expected. As if they weren't refugees from the war. He marveled at how adaptable people were when they had to.

It didn't take him too long to find Mrs. Tonks. As he spotted her in quite conversation with some witches he didn't know, he was once again stuck by her uncanny resemblance to Bellatrix.

As he approached she saw him and murmured something inaudible to the witches around her. They rose and said their goodbyes just as he made his way over. After a few parting looks at him they left and he sat down on one of the now vacant chairs.

"Mrs. Tonks, it's good to see you again," he said with a smile. For some reason he really liked her.

She smiled at him, but like always after her husband's death her smile was a little bit strained. That she could even smile at all was no small feat.

"And you, Harry," she said simply. "I take it that you received my message then?"

"Yes, but I remain undecided what to about it. Malfoy _does_ seem to have changed, but he is still the person who did his best to make my life miserable at Hogwarts, not to mention leading Death Eaters into the castle which eventually cost Dumbledore his life," he replied with a sigh. It was a conundrum. He had initially planned to utterly destroy Malfoy Mansion and make an example out of the family, but now it seemed that Malfoy senior was rarely ever at home and that Malfoy junior had second thoughts on following in his father's footsteps. He wasn't sure where that left his plans.

"I understand, Harry," Andromeda said after a moment. "But consider this, the Malfoys are inner circle. My sister must know quite a lot about their plans. Things that can be very useful." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please Harry, I don't have much family left. And while I won't deny that Narcissa shares their values, she is not and never has been a Death Eater. All I remember is a sweet girl who wanted to make her parents proud and happily agreed to the match made by her father. At the time I doubt that she had any idea what it meant."

He could feel her gaze upon him as he mulled over her words. Could he use Malfoy Mansion as another base? They were vulnerable right now and could always need another safe-house. From what he had heard, the mansion had extensive grounds where many could find refuge. Wouldn't it be the height of irony if all these Muggleborn and _blood traitors_ found safety among the Malfoys? Perhaps with the right oaths he could even steal Lucius' family away from him, right under his very nose.

Yet, the Dementors would find them easily. They would need to use the Fidelius once more, but was Flitwick strong enough for such a large place? Was he?

Turning back to Andromeda, he said, "I will agree to meet her, but I cannot guarantee the outcome. For that I'm sorry, Mrs. Tonks."

She gave him a hesitant smile and nodded. "That is all I expected, Harry. Thank you for giving it a chance."

At this Harry rose to his feet. He went over and brushed his lips lightly against her knuckles as he said his goodbyes. With Flitwick still at Gringotts, hopefully making some progress, there was only one more person he needed to talk to.

* * *

 **Blaise**

The monotony of his imprisonment had started to vex him. Blaise paced back and forth in the tent that he now had all to himself, with only the occasional visit by his _caretakers_. Potter was the only one who came by to actually talk, but it had been a while. Yes, he was _quite_ vexed by this whole situation. If he had to stay in this tent any longer he would kill someone. He must have been here for weeks by now!

Not that he could kill anyone without his wand, of course, but the sentiment was nevertheless true. He knew his mother didn't have any money to speak of, and certainly not enough to fund Potter's little war. Frankly, he didn't understand what he was doing here in the first place. Was this payback for laughing at Draco's taunts of the Golden Boy?

Worst of all, he missed Tracey. While he hadn't acted upon his feelings, due to the current political climate, he nevertheless had loved her for years. At least they had been friends. He desperately wanted to tell her how he felt and bring her with him to Italy and escape all this insanity.

Suddenly he heard the tent flaps open and he turned around and spotted Potter standing there with a neutral expression on his face. Despite himself he was actually glad to see him, perhaps only as a break from the mind numbing monotony. He even let on as much.

"Never thought I'd welcome the sight of you, Potter."

His welcome was met with an amused smirk by the raven-haired supposed nemesis of all things Slytherin.

"You know I always aim to please, Zabini," Potter responded.

Blaise snorted at that. "Once I thought that was true, but let's just say that I rather doubt it these days."

"You wound me, Zabini. Haven't I been a good host?" Potter retorted in mock indignation, with a playful smirk still on his lips. For some reason it irritated Blaise greatly.

"Cut the crap, Potter. We both know what this is, but after weeks only one of us knows _why!_ " Yes, he had let his irritation overcome his usual caution. That wasn't good when dealing with Potter.

The smirk on Potter's face was now replaced by a hard stare.

"Why, Zabini? Would you for a moment entertain the thought that I had a purpose in seeking you out over the past weeks? While I admit that many things require my attention, I've still made time for you. Each time is another spar with words and while I find it somewhat entertaining and learn many things about your _charming_ personality, I still haven't found a single reason to trust you. Perhaps that's why you're still here, while some have already been released."

Blaise considered his words for a moment. With a groan he realized that Potter was right. Ever since Potter's first visit, when he had found Potter's eyes cold and calculating, he had been on his guard, vowing to not reveal a single thing that could be used against him or his family. But even now, he couldn't find it within himself to trust Potter. The boy had been self-effacing, but the man in front of him was dangerous. He had only Potter's word that some of the others had been released, but there was no evidence to back up the words.

"And what exactly do you want from me? My family has never joined the Dark Lord's cause, but I've already told you that many times." He finally said.

Potter gave him a considering look as he ran his hand through his messy hair.

"Perhaps we should try a different tactic," he started. "Perhaps the real question is what do _you_ want, Zabini?"

Blaise suddenly felt tired and worn down by it all. What could he possibly say that would convince Potter? Perhaps his growing desperation made him answer more honestly than he had ever expected to.

"The truth Potter? I'll tell you what I really want, not that it will make a difference. If you gave me a wand _I'd swear_ that all I want is to find Tracey Davis and bring her away from all of this; to go back to Italy until all this blows over. And assuming the Dark Lord defeats your little rebellion soon, we'd probably never come back. As things stand there's nothing for us here. I'm a pureblood, but Tracey's father married a Muggleborn and as a half-blood they will let her live, but it would be the life of a second-class citizen. At best."

There. He had said it. It was definitely too honest, but right now he felt beyond caring.

For a moment he thought he spotted regret in Potter's eyes. _Is he pitying me? Why?_

Potter seemed to come to a decision and cleared his throat.

"I'm very sorry to say that Tracey has disappeared. My sources speculate that she might be held captive somewhere, perhaps even in Azkaban, but I really doubt the latter since there's an arrest-warrant for her by the Ministry. But I do know for sure that there was an attack on the Davis home weeks ago for reasons unknown, leaving her father killed. Her mother was sent to Azkaban on the ridiculous charges of having stolen her magic."

To say that Blaise was shocked by the news would be an understatement. For the first time he felt fear, but not for himself. He was a pureblood and neutral. There was no sense in attacking him, but Tracey… she had been hurt! They had attacked her family and taken her captive!

Slowly fear began to mix with anger, and desperation, to the point where his feelings became completely muddled. _I have to find her!_

He told Potter as much and was once again met by a calculating look until Potter finally answered.

"Perhaps we can reach an accommodation, Zabini."

* * *

 **Harry**

He hated side-along apparition. And it hated him. It turned his stomach and he inevitably landed on his arse. Swearing softly Harry got back to his feet and looked around. About half of his small force displayed similar signs of nausea as only a few had taken part in scouting the area and the others were forced, just like him, into this despicable means of travel.

Harry waited a moment until the nausea began to fade before he began to take in his surroundings. So this was Wiltshire in South Western England. He'd never been to this part of the country before. But then again, the places he'd been outside of Hogwarts and London were easily counted.

Even in the dark he could tell that the field where they arrived was lush and the wheat looked ready for the upcoming harvest. Perhaps a mile down the road the Parkinson mansion awaited them, hidden away from Muggles as most wizarding houses were.

"Are you alright there, Harry?" Bill asked him. He was the one who had taken Harry along and his voice betrayed more amusement than concern.

Harry grunted sourly in reply. He made no move to take command as this was Bill's mission. At least until the wards were down.

Bill nodded at him and began to make the rounds. After a couple of minutes it seemed as if everyone was ready, as Bill barked a quick command to follow him into the fields.

The trek through the ripe fields was difficult, but no one dared to voice any complaint. Once in a while someone stumbled and swore softly, but other than that discipline held.

After perhaps 20 minutes they reached the edge of the field where wheat was replaced by trees and bushes. As they made their way into the forest, Harry could almost feel the Muggle-repellent wards wash over him. It was a bit of a mystery since he had never been able to detect those kinds of wards before. He wondered at that for a moment.

After another 5 minutes Bill held up his hand and signaled them to a halt. He motioned to Harry, Kingsley, Tonks and Remus to come closer.

"The house is another few hundred yards from here and the ward perimeter begins in about a hundred and fifty. Just make sure you stay clear of it," Bill instructed in a soft voice. Harry was glad for it. Most people didn't even realize that whispers carried further than normal voices if spoken softly enough.

Bill continued, "I trust you'll sense the anti-apparition and portkey wards when we put them up. That's your signal to begin taking the wards down. Now let's spread out."

Nothing else needed to be said, as they had drilled repeatedly before the raid. Harry motioned to Fred, George and Susan to follow him. Fred and George were an obvious team, and Harry had found that he worked rather well with the talented witch. As her rapidly growing skills became apparent, he had heard the whispers of how much she takes after her aunt Amelia. Harry didn't really know the late Head of the DMLE, but had heard that her career had been quite remarkable.

They quickly made their way around the ward perimeter, or rather as quickly as the necessary stealth and his constant attempts to stay well clear of the wards allowed. They soon spotted the mansion. As far as mansions went, he was told it wasn't all that impressive. Only two stories tall and not overly large. The Parkinsons may be pureblood of ancient descent, but they weren't known to be overly wealthy.

They continued for another few minutes until Harry judged that they had reached a good spot. He motioned for the others to stop and as they did, he concentrated on trying to sense the wards again. He couldn't tell how he knew, but it was as if they were humming malevolently to him. Sensing them just a dozen yards in front of him he knew that there was nothing to do but wait. After a short while he suspected that everyone would soon be in his place. As soon as he finished that thought he felt Hermione's coin in his pocket heat up. It was time. He pulled out his broom and motioned to the others to do the same. Theirs was a special mission as they would try to sneak in behind the assault. Rabastan's escape from 12 Grimmauld Place had given him the idea.

Moments later he felt the familiar wards that would prevent escape descend upon them. He didn't bother with a signal. If they hadn't felt it themselves, his team would understand as soon as he started firing blasting curses at the wards.

"Confringo!" he shouted as he channeled as much power he could muster into the curse. "Reducto! Bombarda Maxima!" There was no longer any need for stealth.

The others echoed his efforts and each spell that hit the wards lit up the night and filled it with another deafening explosion. Harry could spot similar efforts from different places around the mansion and given Bill's contemptuous sneer every time he mentioned the wards, he knew that it wouldn't be long now.

He kept at it, firing off a steady stream of blasting curses and _Bombardas_. With their combined efforts they eventually blasted their way through the wards. At the same moment as the wards came crashing down, a string of spells flew out of the house and exploded either against the trees behind them or against hastily erected shields. The Parkinsons had finally joined in.

Harry barked a quick command to hold their fire. As they did so, he mounted his broom and took off with the others following soon behind. They flew up in line with the upper floor of the house and quickly approached the house. It felt good to be airborne again. Spotting large windows, to what he assumed might be the master suite; he pointed his wand straight towards them and fired off another Reductor curse, but withheld a lot of the earlier power. It wouldn't do to destroy everything and everyone inside. Mrs. Parkinson he would rather take alive for now.

The curse did its job and the windows shattered instantly, with glass shards exploding into the room. Without hesitation he gave his broom a boost and flew into the darkness within at a reckless speed. Once inside, he pulled hard and ended up hovering in the air as he cast _Homenum Revelio_ , but without result. A quick _lumos_ allowed him to identify the room as a ballroom, and not that master suite he had expected. Having seen the room light up, the others soon joined him inside and dismounted their brooms.

Harry hoped that their break-in hadn't been noticed over all the explosions outside. The other teams were on strict orders to keep firing away curses at a good distance to pin down the Death Eaters inside. When Fred and George had taken up positions by the lone door, he dismounted and motioned to Susan to follow him. When the twins saw her cast a shield in front of them, they carefully opened the door.

As she held her shield Harry peeked outside where he found a large oval room with a staircase descending downwards and many more doors along the sides. He once again motioned to Susan to follow him while he instructed the twins to clear the area upstairs. He let his _lumos_ fade into a faint glow; enough to see where they were going, but hopefully not enough to draw attention. Meanwhile, Susan cast a silencing charm on their feet and they slowly began to descend the stairs.

While the charm silenced their footsteps, it unfortunately did nothing for the squeaking stairs. He prayed that no one would overhear them over the explosions from the bottom floor. Each explosion shook the house. Despite their slow movements, they soon made it down the stairs into a fairly large hallway. Harry wasn't sure where they were in relation to the entrance where the brunt of the attack took place, but most of the explosions were coming from the door on his right, so that's where he led Susan. Once again she cast a shield before he opened the door, wand at the ready.

As soon as he did, a shout was heard from inside and a blasting curse flew their way and hit Susan's shield. He could tell she was straining to maintain the shield against the explosion, but it held. The unmistakably green light of the killing curse soon followed and they both dove to the side. _That's how they want to play?_ , Harry snarled.

He got up on his feet and cast silent _Diffindos_ at a quick rate before he dove back to the side of the door. Someone cursed loudly, but in the absence of a scream in pain he knew that they had evaded his spells.

"Bombarda Maxima!" someone shouted from the other room and instinctively he cast his own "Protego Maxima" just before a deafening explosion impacted the shield.

 _Fuck! Too close!_

Susan looked scared, but determined, as she sat on the floor on the other side of the door. She met his eyes and nodded, as if she understood what he tried to tell her. Still holding the powerful shield he rose to his feet and pushed forward. He stepped through the door frame and saw two unmasked men trying to catch their breaths. As soon they spotted him they fired more curses which barely dented the shield. It didn't take long however before he heard the incantation _Avada Kadavra_ from both men at once. He let go of his shield and dove to the side as he fired another _Diffindo_ at one of the men which split his body in two _._ A moment later Susan stepped through the door and fired a quick chain of curses which were successfully shielded against until an _Expulso_ blasted him to pieces.

Panting heavily, Harry got back to his feet and cast the Patronus which immediately appeared with a shimmering light, spreading its warmth all around. He instructed the familiar stag to go outside and let them know the coast was clear. He didn't bother with a message as the Patronus itself _was_ the message.

"Harry! Susan!" a voice called from behind them. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, you can come downstairs," Susan called back. Moments later Fred and George joined them as they floated an unconscious woman behind them. They stared at the mutilated remains of the Death Eaters with morbid fascination.

"Fred, George. Meet the Parkinson brothers. Mr. and Mr. Parkinson, meet the Weasley twins." Harry's feeble attempt at humor didn't cause as much as a twitch of their lips. _Tough crowd_ , he thought disappointedly.

Not long thereafter, the others arrived and began to check on them. As soon as they established that no one was more than lightly injured, they took Mrs. Parkinson outside and after removing the anti-apparition wards, quickly began to pop away.

Waiting until he was the last person left, Harry made his way back towards the trees. Once he deemed it far enough, he cast a quick tempus. They had been in and out in less than 15 minutes. Turning around back towards the house he raised his wand and cried, "FIENDFYRE!"

He had looked up the spell in the Black library after his encounter with Crabbe and Goyle in the room of requirement, but this was the first time he had a chance to use it. _Thank you Crabbe for teaching me this spell_ , he smirked as he put on his invisibility cloak and watched in fascination as the hellfire consumed the house in a glorious inferno.

He waited there for a while, and after another few minutes he heard the familiar pops once again. _Here comes the cavalry_ , he smirked as he watched two dozen wizards appear around the house with wands drawn. However, with no enemy in sight, they ended up standing around and looking confused, just like the aurors had so often done before. _Turnabout is fair play._

Inside his cloak he cast another tempus. _And it only took them 21 minutes and 45 seconds to arrive._ As he saw about half a dozen dark wizards confer with each other, he couldn't resist one last message. Lifting his cloak just so, he pointed his wand at the group and shouted, "Confringo!" as he fed every last morsel of power into the curse.

Not waiting to see the aftermath, a very pleased Harry Potter apparated away, knowing that they had struck another blow.

END OF CHAPTER 7

* * *

 **Author's note:** Slightly longer this time.

Once again thank you to those who reviewed the story.


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